GIFT  OF 


DESERT  VALLEY 


I  want  to  show  you  a  letter  I  got  when  I  came  in  last  night." 

[Page  290 


DESERT  VALLEY 


BY 

JACKSON  GREGORY 

AUTHOR  OF  "  if  AN  TO  If  AN."   "  JUDITH   OF   BLUB  LAK8  RANCH." 
"  TH£   8RLJ.9  OF  SAN   IUAN  " 


WITH  FRONTISPIECE  BY 
FRANK  TENNEY  JOHNSON 


CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

NEW   YORK:::::::::::::::::::i92i 


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COPYRIGHT,  1921,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

Published  April,  1921 
Reprinted  May,  1921 


Copyright,  1920,  by  STREET  AND  SMITH 


r 


THE   8CRIBNER   PRESS 


Co 

LOTUS 


442763 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

THE  DESERT 

I.  A  BLUE  BIRD'S  FEATHER    . 

II.  SUPERSTITION  POOL 

III.  PAYMENT  IN  RAW  GOLD     . 

IV.  IN  DESERT  VALLEY 

V.  THE  GOOD  OLD  SPORT 

VI.  THE  YOUTHFUL  HEART     . 

VII.  WAITING  FOR  MOONRBSE     . 

VIII.  POKER  AND  THE  SCIENTIFIC  MIND 

IX.  HELEN  KNEW        .... 

X.  A  WARNING  AND  A  SIGN    . 

XI.  SEEKING 

XII.  THE  DESERT  SUPREME 

XIII.  A  SON  OF  THE  SOLITUDES    . 

XIV.  THE  HATE  OF  THE  HIDDEN  PEOPLE 
XV.  THE  GOLDEN  SECRET  . 

XVI.  SANCHIA  SCHEMES 

XVII.  HOWARD  HOLDS  THE  GULCH     . 

XVIII.  A  TOWN  Is  BORN 

XIX.  SANCHIA  PERSISTENT    . 

XX.  Two  FRIENDS  AND  A  GIRL  . 

XXI.  ALMOST  ...... 

XXII.  THE  PROFESSOR  DICTATES  . 

XXIII.  THE  WILL  o'  THE  WISP     .       . 

XXIV.  THE  SHADOW       .... 
XXV.  IN  THE  OPEN 

XXVI.  WHEN  DAY  DAWNED 


PAGE 
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309 


DESERT  VALLEY 


THE  DESERT 

OVER  many  wide  regions  of  the  southwestern  desert 
country  of  Arizona  and  New  Mexico  lies  an  eternal 
spell  of  silence  and  mystery.  Across  the  sand  ridges 
come  many  foreign  things,  both  animate  and  inani 
mate,  which  are  engulfed  in  its  immensity;  which  fre 
quently  disappear  for  all  time  from  the  sight  of 
men,  blotted  out  like  a  bird  which  flies  free  from 
a  lighted  room  into  the  outside  darkness.  As 
though  in  compensation  for  that  which  it  has  taken, 
the  desert  from  time  to  time  allows  new  marvels, 
riven  from  its  vitals,  to  emerge. 

Though  death-still,  it  has  a  voice  which  calls 
ceaselessly  to  those  human  hearts  tuned  to  its  mes 
sages;  hostile  and  harsh,  it  draws  and  urges;  re 
pellent,  it  profligately  awards  health  and  wealth; 
inviting,  it  kills.  And  always  it  keeps  its  own 
counsel;  it  is  without  peer  in  its  lonesomeness,  and 
without  confidants;  it  heaps  its  sand  over  its  secrets 
to  hide  them  from  its  flashing  stars. 

You  see  the  bobbing  ears  of  a  pack  animal  and 
the  dusty  hat  and  stoop  shoulders  of  a  man.  They 
are  symbols  of  mystery.  They  rise  briefly  against 
the  sky  line,  they  are  gone  into  the  grey  distance. 
Something  beckons  or  something  drives.  They  are 

I 


Desert  Valley 

st:t6;  human  s'iglit,  perhaps  to  human  memory,  like 


a  couple  of  chips  drifting  out  into  the  ocean.  Patient 
time  may  witness  their  return;  it  is  still  likely  that 
soon  another  incarnation  will  have  closed  for  man 
and  beast;  that  they  will  have  left  to  mark  their 
passing  a  few  glisteningly  white  bones,  p'°lishd  un 
tiringly  by  tiny  sand  chisels  in  the  grip  of  *bt  desert 
winds.  They  may  find  gold,  but  they  may  not  come 
in  time  to  water.  The  desert  is  equally  conversant 
with  the  actions  of  men  mad  with  gold  and  mad 
with  thirst. 

To  push  out  alone  into  this  vastitude  is  to  evince 
the  heart  of  a  brave  man  or  the  brain  of  a  fool. 
The  endeavor  to  traverse  the  forbidden  garden  of 
silence  implies  on  the  part  of  the  agent  an  adven 
turous  nature.  Hence  it  would  seem  no  great  task 
to  catalogue  those  human  beings  who  set  their  backs 
to  the  gentler  world  and  press  forward  into  the 
naked  embrace  of  this  merciless  land.  Yet  as  many 
sorts  and  conditions  come  here  each  year  as  are  to 
be  found  outside. 

Silence,  ruthlessness,  mystery,  —  these  are  the  at 
tributes  of  the  desert.  True,  it  has  its  softer  phases, 
veiled  dawns  and  dusks,  rainbow  hues,  moon  and 
stars.  But  these  are  but  tender  blossoms  from  a 
spiked,  poisonous  stalk,  like  the  flowers  of  the 
cactus.  They  are  brief  and  evanescent;  the  iron 
parent  is  everlasting. 


CHAPTER  I 
I*  A  BLUE  BIRD'S  FEATHER 

IN  the  dusk  a  pack  horse  crested  a  low-lying  sand 
ridge,  put  up  its  head  and  sniffed,  pushed  for 
ward  eagerly,  its  nostrils  twitching  as  it  turned  a 
little  more  toward  the  north,  going  straight  toward 
the  water-hole.  The  pack  was  slipping  as  far  to 
one  side  as  it  had  listed  to  the  other  half  an  hour 
ago;  in  the  restraining  rope  there  were  a  dozen 
intricate  knots  where  one  would  have  amply  suf 
ficed.  The  horse  broke  into  a  trot,  blazing  its  own 
trail  through  the  mesquite;  a  parcel  slipped;  the 
slack  rope  grew  slacker  because  of  the  subsequent 
readjustment;  half  a  dozen  bundles  dropped  after 
the  first.  A  voice,  thin  and  irritable,  shouted 
u  Whoa !  "  and  the  man  in  turn  was  briefly  out 
lined  against  the  pale  sky  as  he  scrambled  up  the 
ridge.  He  was  a  little  man  and  plainly  weary;  he 
walked  as  though  his  boots  hurt  him;  he  carried  a 
wide,  new  hat  in  one  hand;  the  skin  was  peeling 
from  his  blistered  face.  From  his  other  hand  trailed 
a  big  handkerchief.  He  was  perhaps  fifty  or  sixty. 
He  called  "  Whoa !  "  again  and  made  what  haste  he 
could  after  his  horse. 

A  moment  later  a  second  horse  appeared  against 
the  sky,  following  the  man,  topping  the  ridge,  pass 
ing  on.  In  silhouette  it  appeared  no  normal  animal 
but  some  weird  monstrosity,  a  misshapen  body  cov- 

3 


Desert  Valley 

ered  everywhere  with  odd  wart-like  excrescences. 
Close  by,  these  unique  growths  resolved  themselves 
into  at  least  a  score  of  canteens  and  water  bottles 
of  many  shapes  and  sizes,  strung  together  with  bits 
of  rope.  Undoubtedly  the  hand  which  had  tied  the 
other  knots  had  constructed  these.  This  horse  in 
turn  sniffed  and  went  forward  with  a  quickened  pace. 

Finally  came  the  fourth  figure  of  the  procession. 
This  was  a  girl.  Like  the  man  she  was  booted;  like 
him  she  carried  a  broad  hat  in  her  hand.  Here  the 
similarity  ended.  She  wore  an  outdoor  costume,  a 
little  thing  appropriate  enough  for  her  environment. 
And  yet  it  was  peculiarly  appropriate  to  femininity. 
It  disclosed  the  pleasing  lines  of  a  pretty  figure. 
Her  fatigue  seemed  less  than  the  man's.  Her  youth 
was  pronounced,  assertive.  She  alone  of  the  four 
paused  more  than  an  instant  upon  the  slight 
eminence;  she  put  back  her  head  and  looked  up  at 
the  few  stars  that  were  shining;  she  listened  to  the 
hushed  voice  of  the  desert.  She  drew  a  scarf  away 
from  her  neck  and  let  the  cooling  air  breathe  upon 
her  throat.  The  throat  was  round;  no  doubt  it 
was  soft  and  white  and,  like  her  whole  small  self, 
seductively  feminine. 

Having  communed  with  the  night,  the  girl  with 
drew  her  gaze  frdm  the  sky  and  hearkened  to  her 
companion.  His  voice,  now  remarkably  eager  and 
young  for  a  man  of  his  years,  came  to  her  clearly 
through  the  clumps  of  bushes. 

"  It  is  amazing,  my  dear !  Positively.  You 
never  heard  of  such  a  thing.  The  horse,  the  tall 
slender  one,  ran  away  from  me.  I  hastened  in  pur 
suit  calling  to  him  to  wait  for  me.  It  appeared  that 

4 


A  Blue  Bird's  Feather 

he  had  become  suddenly  refractory;  they  do  that 
sometimes.  I  was  going  to  reprimand  him;  I 
thought  that  it  might  be  necessary  to  chastise  him 
as  sometimes  a  man  must  do  to  retain  the  mastery. 
But  I  stayed  my  hand.  The  animal  had  not  run 
away  at  all !  He  actually  knew  what  he  was  doing. 
He  came  straight  here.  And  what  do  you  think 
he  discovered  ?  What  do  you  imagine  brought  him  ? 
You  would  never  guess. " 

"Water?"  suggested  the  girl,  coming  on. 

Something  of  the  man's  excitement  had  gone 
from  his  voice  when  he  answered.  He  was  like  a 
child  who  has  propounded  a  riddle  that  has  been 
too  readily  guessed. 

"How  did  you  know?" 

"  I  didn't  know.  But  the  horses  must  be  thirsty. 
Of  course  they  would  go  straight  to  water.  Ani 
mals  can  smell  it,  can't  they?" 

"Can  they?"  He  looked  to  her  inquiringly 
when  she  stood  at  his  side.  "  It  is  amazing,  never 
theless.  Positively,  my  dear,"  he  added  with  a 
touch  of  dignity. 

The  two  horses,  side  by  side,  were  drinking 
noisily  from  a  small  depression  into  which  the  water 
oozed  slowly.  The  girl  watched  them  a  moment 
abstractedly,  sighed  and  sat  down  in  the  sand,  her 
hands  in  her  lap. 

'Tired,  Helen?"  asked  the  man  solicitously. 

"Aren't  you?"  she  returned.  "It  has  been  a 
hard  day,  papa." 

"  I  am  afraid  it  has  been  hard  on  you,  my  dear," 
he  admitted  as  his  eyes  took  stock  of  the  drooping 
figure.  "  But,"  he  added  more  cheerfully,  "  we  are 

5 


Desert  Valley 

getting  somewhere,  my  girl;  we  are  getting  some 
where/' 

"  Are  we?  "  she  murmured  to  herself  rather  than 
for  his  ears.  And  when  he  demanded  "  Eh?  "  she 
said  hastily:  "Anyway,  we  are  doing  something. 
That  is  more  fun  than  growing  moss,  even  if  we 
never  succeed." 

"  I  tell  you,"  he  declared  forensically,  lifting  his 
hand  for  a  gesture,  u  I  know !  Haven't  I  demon 
strated  the  infallibility  of  my  line  of  action?  If  a 
man  wants  to — to  gather  cherries,  let  him  go  to  a 
cherry  tree;  if  he  seeks  pearls,  let  him  find  out  the 
favorite  habitat  of  the  pearl  oyster;  if  he  desires 
a — a  hat,  let  him  go  to  the  hatter's.  It  is  the 
simplest  thing  in  the  world,  though  fools  have 
woven  mystery  and  difficulty  about  it.  Now — " 

"  Yes,  pops."  Helen  sighed  again  and  saw  wis 
dom  in  rising  to  her  feet.  "  If  you  will  begin  un 
packing  I'll  make  our  beds.  And  I'll  get  the  fire 
started." 

"  We  can  dispense  with  the  fire,"  he  told  her, 
setting  to  work  with  the  first  knot  to  come  under  his 
fingers.  "  There  is  coffee  in  the  thermos  bottle 
and  we  can  open  a  tin  of  potted  chicken." 

"  The  fire  makes  it  cozier,"  Helen  said,  beginning 
to  gather  twigs.  Last  night  coyotes  had  howled 
fearsomely  and  even  dwellers  of  the  cities  know  that 
the  surest  safeguard  against  a  ravening  beast  is  a 
camp  fire.  For  a  little,  while  the  man  strove  with 
his  tangled  rope,  she  was  lost  to  him  through  the 
mesquite.  Suddenly  she  came  running  back. 

"  Papa,"  she  whispered  excitedly.  "  There's 
someone  already  here." 

6 


A  Blue  Bird's  Feather 

She  led  him  a  few  paces  and  pointed,  making  him 
stoop  to  see.  Under  the  tangle  of  a  thin  brush  patch 
he  made  out  what  she  had  seen.  But  a  short  dis 
tance  from  the  spot  they  had  elected  for  their  camp 
site  was  a  tiny  fire  blazing  merrily. 

"  Ahem,"  said  Helen's  father,  shifting  nervously 
and  looking  at  his  daughter  as  though  for  an  ex 
planation  of  this  oddity.  "  This  is  peculiar.  It  has 
an  air  of — of — " 

"  Why,  it  is  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world," 
she  said  swiftly.  "  Where  would  you  expect  to  find 
a  camp  fire  if  not  near  a  spring?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  that  part  of  it  is  all  right,"  he  ad 
mitted  grudgingly.  "  But  why  does  he  hold  back 
and  thereby  give  one  an  impression  of  a  desire  on 
his  part  for  secrecy?  Why  does  he  not  come  for 
ward  and  make  himself  known?  I  do  not  mean  to 
alarm  you,  my  dear,  but  this  is  not  the  way  an 
honest  fellow  wayfarer  should  behave.  Wait  here 
for  me;  I  shall  investigate."  Intrepidly  he  walked 
toward  the  fire.  Helen  kept  close  to  his  side. 

"  Hullo !  "  he  called  when  they  had  taken  a  dozen 
steps.  They  paused  and  listened.  There  was  no 
reply  and  Helen's  fingers  tightened  on  his  arm. 
Again  he  looked  to  her  as  though  once  more  he 
asked  the  explanation  of  her;  the  look  hinted  that 
upon  occasion  the  father  leaned  on  the  daughter 
more  than  she  on  him.  He  called  again.  His  voice 
died  away  echoless,  the  silence  seeming  heavier 
than  before.  When  one  of  the  horses  behind  them, 
turning  from  the  water,  trod  upon  a  dry  twig,  both 
man  and  girl  started.  Then  Helen  laughed  and 
went  forward  again.  Since  the  fire  had  not  lighted 

7 


Desert  Valley 

itself,  it  merely  bespoke  the  presence  of  a  man. 
Men  had  no  terror  to  her.  In  the  ripe  fulness  of 
her  something  less  than  twenty  years  she  had  en 
countered  many  of  them.  While  with  due  modesty 
she  admitted  that  there  was  much  in  the  world  that 
she  did  not  know,  she  considered  that  she  "  knew  " 
men. 

The  two  pressed  on  together.  Before  they  had 
gone  far  they  were  greeted  by  the  familiar  and 
vaguely  comforting  odors  of  boiling  coffee  and 
frying  bacon.  Still  they  saw  no  one.  They  pushed 
through  the  last  clump  of  bushes  and  stood  by  the 
fire.  On  the  coals  was  the  black  coffee  pot.  Cun 
ningly  placed  upon  two  stones  over  a  bed  of  coals 
was  the  frying-pan.  Helen  stooped  instinctively  and 
lifted  it  aside;  the  half  dozen  slices  of  bacon  were 
burned  black. 

"  Hullo !  "  shouted  the  man  a  third  time.  For 
nothing  in  the  world  was  more  clear  than  that  who 
ever  had  made  the  fire  and  begun  his  supper  prepara 
tions  must  be  within  call.  But  no  answer  came. 
Meantime  the  night  had  deepened;  there  was  no 
moon;  the  taller  shrubs,  aspiring  to  tree  propor 
tions,  made  a  tangle  of  shadow. 

"  He  had  probably  gone  off  to  picket  his  horse," 
said  Helen's  father.  "  Nothing  could  be  more 
natural." 

Helen,  more  matter-of-fact  and  less  given  to 
theorizing,  looked  about  her  curiously.  She  found 
a  tin  cup ;  there  was  no  bed,  no  pack,  no  other  sign 
to  tell  who  their  neighbor  might  be.  Close  by  the 
spot  where  she  had  set  down  the  frying-pan  she 
noted  a  second  spring.  Through  an  open  space  in 

8 


A  Blue  Bird's  Feather 

the  stunted  desert  growth  the  trail  came  in  from 
the  north.  Glancing  northward  she  saw  for  the 
first  time  the  outline  of  a  low  hill.  She  stepped 
quickly  to  her  father's  side  and  once  more  laid  her 
hand  on  his  arm. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked,  his  voice  sharpening 
at  her  sudden  grip. 

"  It's — it's  spooky  out  here,"  she  said. 

He  scoffed.  "  That's  a  silly  word.  In  a  natural 
world  there  is  no  place  for  the  supernatural."  He 
grew  testy.  "  Can  I  ever  teach  you,  Helen,  not 
to  employ  words  utterly  meaningless?" 

But  Helen  was  not  to  be  shaken. 

"  Just  the  same  it  is  spooky.  I  can  feel  it.  Look 
there."  She  pointed.  "  There  is  a  hill.  There  will 
be  a  little  ring  of  hills.  In  the  center  of  the  basin 
they  make  would  be  the  pool.  And  you  know  what 
we  heard  about  it  before  we  left  San  Juan.  This 
whole  country  is  strange  somehow." 

"Strange?"  he  queried  challengingly.  "What 
do  you  mean?  " 

She  had  not  relaxed  her  hand  on  his  arm.  In 
stead  her  fingers  tightened  as  she  suddenly  put  her 
face  forward  and  whispered  defiantly: 

"  I  mean  spooky!  " 

"  Helen,"  he  expostulated,  "  where  did  you  get 
such  ideas?  " 

'  You  heard  the  old  Indian  legends,"  she  insisted, 
not  more  than  half  frightened,  but  conscious  of  an 
eerie  influence  of  the  still  loneliness  and  experiencing 
the  first  shiver  of  excitement  as  she  stirred  her  own 
fancy.  "  Who  knows  but  there  is  some  foundation 
for  them?" 


Desert  Valley 

He  snorted  his  disdain  and  scholarly  contempt. 

"  Then,"  said  Helen,  resorting  to  argument, 
"  where  did  that  fire  come  from?  Who  made  it? 
Why  has  he  disappeared  like  this?" 

"  Even  you,"  said  her  father,  quick  as  always  to 
join  issue  where  sound  argument  offered  itself  as  a 
weapon,  "  will  hardly  suppose  that  a  spook  eats 
bacon  and  drinks  coffee." 

"  The — the  ghost,"  said  Helen,  with  a  humorous 
glance  in  her  eyes,  "  might  have  whisked  him  away 
by  the  hair  of  the  head!  " 

He  shook  her  hand  off  and  strode  forward  im 
patiently.  Again  and  again  he  shouted  u  Hullo!" 
and  "Ho,  there!  Ho,  I  say!"  There  came  no 
answer.  The  bacon  was  growing  cold;  the  fire  burn 
ing  down.  He  turned  a  perplexed  face  towards 
Helen's  eager  one. 

"  It  is  odd,"  he  said  irritably.  He  was  not  a  man 
to  relish  being  baffled. 

Helen  had  picked  up  something  which  she  had 
found  near  the  spring,  and  was  studying  it  intently. 
He  came  to  her  side  to  see  what  it  was.  The  thing 
was  a  freshly  peeled  willow  wand,  left  upright 
where  one  end  had  been  thrust  down  into  the  soft 
earth.  The  other  end  had  been  split;  into  the  cleft 
was  thrust  a  single  feather  from  a  bluebird's  wing. 

Helen's  eyes  looked  unusually  large  and  bright. 
She  turned  her  head,  glancing  over  her  shoulder. 

"  Someone  was  here  just  a  minute  ago,"  she  cried 
softly.  "  He  was  camping  for  the  night.  Some 
thing  frightened  him  away.  It  might  have  been  the 
noise  we  made.  Or —  What  do  you  think,  papa  ?  " 

"  I  never  attempt  to  solve  a  problem  until  the 

10 


A  Blue  Bird's  Feather 

necessary  data  are  given  me/'  he  announced  academ 
ically. 

"  Or,"  went  on  Helen,  at  whose  age  one  does  not 
bother  about  such  trifles  as  necessary  data,  "  he  may 
not  have  run  away  at  all.  He  may  be  hiding  in  the 
bushes,  listening  to  us.  There  are  all  kinds  of  peo 
ple  in  the  desert.  Don't  you  remember  how  the 
sheriff  came  to  San  Juan  just  before  we  left?  He 
was  looking  for  a  man  who  had  killed  a  miner  for 
his  gold  dust." 

"  You  must  curb  a  proclivity  for  such  fanciful 
trash."  He  cleared  his  throat  for  the  utterance. 
He  put  out  his  hand  and  Helen  hastily  slipped  her 
own  into  it.  Silently  they  returned  to  their  own 
camp  site,  the  girl  carrying  in  her  free  hand  the 
wand  tipped  with  the  bluebird  feather.  Several 
times  they  paused  and  looked  back.  There  was  noth 
ing  but  the  glow  of  the  dwindling  fire  and  the  sweep 
of  sand,  covered  sparsely  with  ragged  bushes.  New 
stars  flared  out;  the  spirit  of  the  night  descended 
upon  the  desert.  As  the  world  seemed  to  draw  fur 
ther  and  further  away  from  them,  these  two  beings, 
strange  to  the  vastness  engulfing  them,  huddled 
closer  together.  They  spoke  little,  always  in  low 
ered  voices.  Between  words  they  were  listening, 
awaiting  that  which  did  not  come. 


CHAPTER  II 
SUPERSTITION  POOL 

PHYSICALLY  tired  as  they  were,  the  night  was 
a  restless  one  for  both  Helen  and  her  father. 
They  ate  their  meal  in  silence  for  the  most  part, 
made  their  beds  close  together,  picketed  their  horses 
near  by  and  said  their  listless  "  good-nights, "  early. 
Each  heard  the  other  turn  and  fidget  many  times 
before  both  went  to  sleep.  Helen  saw  how  her 
father,  with  a  fine  assumption  of  careless  habit,  laid 
a  big  new  revolver  close  to  his  head. 

The  girl  dozed  and  woke  when  the  pallid  moon 
shone  upon  her  face.  She  lifted  herself  upon  her 
elbow.  The  moonlight  touched  upon  the  willow 
stick  she  had  thrust  into  the  sand  at  her  bedside; 
the  feather  was  upright  and  like  a  plume.  She  con 
sidered  it  gravely;  it  became  the  starting-point  of 
many  romantic  imaginings.  Somehow  it  was  a 
token;  of  just  exactly  what,  to  be  sure,  she  could 
not  decide.  Not  definitely,  that  is;  it  was  always 
indisputable  that  the  message  of  the  bluebird  is 
one  of  good  fortune. 

A  less  vivid  imagination  than  Helen's  would  have 
found  a  tang  of  ghostliness  in  the  night.  The  crest 
of  the  ridge  over  which  they  had  come  through  the 
dusk  now  showed  silvery  white;  white  also  were 
some  dead  branches  of  desert  growth, — they  looked 
like  bones.  Always  through  the  intense  silence 

12 


Superstition  Pool 

stirred  an  indistinguishable  breath  like  a  shiver.  In 
dividual  bushes  assumed  grotesque  shapes;  when  she 
looked  long  and  intently  at  one  she  began  to  fancy 
that  it  moved.  She  scoffed  at  herself,  knowing  that 
she  was  lending  aid  to  tricking  her  own  senses,  yet 
her  heart  beat  a  wee  bit  faster.  She  gave  her  mind 
to  large  considerations;  those  of  infinity,  as  her  eyes 
were  lifted  heavenward  and  dwelt  upon  the  bright 
est  star;  those  of  life  and  death,  and  all  of  the 
mystery  of  mysteries.  She  went  to  sleep  struggling 
with  the  ancient  problem:  "Do  the  dead  return? 
Are  there,  flowing  about  us,  weird  supernatural  in 
fluences,  as  potent  and  intangible  as  electric  cur 
rents?"  In  her  sleep  she  continued  her  interesting 
investigations,  but  her  dreaming  vision  explained  the 
evening's  problem  by  showing  her  the  camp  fire 
made,  the  bacon  and  coffee  set  thereon,  by  a  very 
nice  young  man  with  splendid  eyes. 

She  stirred,  smiled  sleepily,  and  lay  again  without 
moving;  after  the  fashion  of  one  awakening  she  clung 
to  the  misty  frontiers  of  a  fading  dream-country. 
She  breathed  deeply,  inhaling  the  freshness  of  the 
new  dawn.  Then  suddenly  her  eyes  flew  open,  and 
she  sat  up  with  a  little  cry;  a  man  who  would  have 
fitted  well  enough  into  any  fancy-free  maiden's 
dreams  was  standing  close  to  her  side,  looking 
down  at  her.  Helen's  hands  flew  to  her  hair. 

Plainly — she  read  that  in  the  first  flashing  look — 
he  was  no  less  astounded  than  she.  At  the  moment 
he  made  a  picture  to  fill  the  eye  and  remain  in  the 
memory  of  a  girl  fresh  from  an  Eastern  city.  The 
tall,  rangy  form  was  garbed  in  the  picturesque  way 
of  the  country;  she  took  him  in  from  the  heels  of 

13 


Desert  Valley 

the  black  boots  with  their  silver  spurs  to  the  top 
of  his  head  with  its  amazingly  wide  black  hat.  He 
stood  against  a  sky  rapidly  filling  to  the  warm  glow 
of  the  morning.  His  horse,  a  rarely  perfect  creation 
even  in  the  eyes  of  one  who  knew  little  of  fine 
breeding  in  animals,  stood  just  at  its  master's  heels, 
with  ears  pricked  forward  curiously. 

Helen  wondered  swiftly  if  he  intended  to  stand 
there  until  the  sun  came  up,  just  looking  at  her. 
Though  it  was  scarcely  more  than  a  moment  that  he 
stood  thus,  in  Helen's  confusion  the  time  seemed 
much  longer.  She  began  to  grow  ill  at  ease;  she 
felt  a  quick  spurt  of  irritation.  No  doubt  she  looked 
a  perfect  fright,  taken  all  unawares  like  this,  and 
equally  indisputably  he  was  forming  an  extremely 
uncomplimentary  opinion  of  her.  It  required  less 
than  three  seconds  for  Miss  Helen  to  decide 
emphatically  that  the  man  was  a  horrible  crea 
ture. 

But  he  did  not  look  any  such  thing.  He  was 
healthy  and  brown  and  boyish.  He  had  had  a 
shave  and  haircut  no  longer  ago  than  yesterday  and 
looked  neat  and  clean.  His  mouth  was  quite  as 
large  as  a  man's  should  be  and  now  was  suddenly 
smiling.  At  the  same  instant  his  hat  came  off  in 
his  big  brown  hand  and  a  gleam  of  downright  joy- 
ousness  shone  in  his  eyes. 

"Impudent  beast!"  was  Helen's  quick  thought. 
She  had  given  her  mind  last  night  a  great  deal  less 
to  matters  of  toilet  than  to  mystic  imaginings;  it 
lay  entirely  in  the  field  of  absurd  likelihood  that 
there  was  a  smear  of  black  across  her  face. 

44  My  mistake,"  grinned  the  stranger.     "  Guess 


Superstition  Pool 

I'll  step  out  while  the  stepping' s  good  and  the  road 
open.  If  there's  one  sure  thing  a  man  ought  to  be 
shot  for,  it's  stampeding  in  on  another  fellow's 
honeymoon.  Adios,  seiiora" 

"  Honeymoon !  "  gasped  Helen.  "  The  big 
fool." 

Her  father  wakened  abruptly,  sat  up,  grasping 
his  big  revolver  in  both  hands,  and  blinked  about 
him;  he,  too,  had  had  his  dreams.  In  the  night 
cap  which  he  had  purchased  in  San  Juan,  his  wide, 
grave  eyes  and  sun-blistered  face  turned  up  in 
quiringly,  he  was  worthy  of  a  second  glance  as  he 
sat  prepared  to  defend  himself  and  his  daughter. 
The  stranger  had  just  set  the  toe  of  his  boot  into 
the  tapaderoed  stirrup;  in  this  posture  he  remained, 
forgetful  of  his  intention  to  mount,  while  his  mare 
began  to  circle  and  he  had  to  hop  along  to  keep 
pace  with  her,  his  eyes  upon  the  startled  occupant 
of  the  bed  beyond  Helen's.  He  had  had  barely 
more  than  time  to  note  the  evident  discrepancy  in 
ages  which  naturally  should  have  started  his  mind 
down  a  new  channel  for  the  explanation  of  the  true 
relationship,  when  the  revolver  clutched  tightly  in 
unaccustomed  fingers  went  off  with  an  unexpected 
roar.  Dust  spouted  up  a  yard  beyond  the  feet  of 
the  man  who  held  it.  The  horse  plunged,  the 
stranger  went  up  into  the  saddle  like  a  flash,  and 
the  man  dropped  his  gun  to  his  blanket  and  mut 
tered  in  the  natural  bewilderment  of  the  moment: 

"  It — it  went  off  by  itself !    The  most  amazing — " 

The  rider  brought  his  prancing  horse  back  and 
fought  with  his  facial  muscles  for  gravity;  the  light 
in  his  eyes  was  utterly  beyond  his  control. 

15 


Desert  Valley 

"  I'd  better  be  going  off  by  myself  somewhere," 
he  remarked  as  gravely  as  he  could  manage,  "  if 
you're  going  to  start  shooting  a  man  up  just  because 
he  calls  before  breakfast." 

With  a  face  grown  a  sick  white,  the  man  in  bed 
looked  helplessly  from  the  stranger  to  his  daughter 
and  then  to  the  gun. 

"  I  didn't  do  a  thing  to  it,"  he  began  haltingly. 

*  You  won't  do  a  thing  to  yourself  one  of  these 
fine  days,"  remarked  the  horseman  with  evident 
relish,  "  if  you  don't  quit  carrying  that  sort  of  life- 
saver.  Come  over  to  the  ranch  and  I'll  swap  you 
a  hand  ax  for  it." 

Helen  sniffed  audibly  and  distastefully.  Her 
first  impression  of  the  stranger  had  been  more  cor 
rect  than  are  first  impressions  nine  times  out  of 
ten;  he  was  as  full  of  impudence  as  a  city  sparrow. 
She  had  sat  up  "  looking  like  a  fright";  her  father 
had  made  himself  ridiculous;  the  stranger  was 
mirthfully  concerned  with  the  amusing  possibilities 
of  both  of  them. 

Suddenly  the  tall  man,  smitten  by  inspiration, 
slapped  his  thigh  with  one  hand  while  with  the 
other  he  curbed  rebellion  in  his  mare  and  offered 
the  explosive  wager: 

"  I'll  bet  a  man  a  dollar  I've  got  your  num 
ber,  friends.  You  are  Professor  James  Edward 
Longstreet  and  his  little  daughter  Helen !  Am  I 
right?" 

"  You  are  correct,  sir,"  acknowledged  the  pro 
fessor  a  trifle  stiffly.  His  eye  did  not  rise  but  clung 
in  a  fascinated,  faintly  accusing  way  to  the  gun  which 
had  betrayed  him. 

16 


Superstition  Pool 

The  stranger  nodded  and  then  lifted  his  hat  for 
the  ceremony  while  he  presented  himself: 

"  Name  of  Howard,",  he  announced  breezily. 
"  Alan  Howard  of  the  old  Diaz  Rancho.  Glad  to 
know  you  both." 

"  It  is  a  pleasure,  I  am  sure,  Mr.  Howard,"  said 
the  professor.  u  But,  if  you  will  pardon  me,  at  this 
particular  time  of  day — " 

Alan  Howard  laughed  his  understanding. 

"  I'll  chase  up  to  the  pool  and  give  Helen  a  drink 
of  real  water,"  he  said  lightly.  "  Funny  my  mare's 
name  should  be  Helen,  too,  isn't  it?  "  This  directly 
into  a  pair  of  eyes  which  the  growing  light  showed 
to  be  grey  and  attractive,  but  just  now  hostile. 
"  Then,  if  you  say  the  word,  I'll  romp  back  and  take 
you  up  on  a  cup  of  coffee.  And  we'll  talk  things 


over." 


He  stooped  forward  in  the  saddle  a  fraction  of 
an  inch;  his  mare  caught  the  familiar  signal  and 
leaped;  they  were  gone,  racing  away  across  the  sand 
which  was  flung  up  after  them  like  spray. 

"Of  all  the  fresh  propositions!"  gasped  Helen. 

But  she  knew  that  he  would  not  long  delay  his 
return  and  so  slipped  quickly  from  under  her  blanket 
and  hurried  down  to  the  water-hole  to  bathe  her 
hands  and  face  and  set  herself  in  order.  Her  flying 
fingers  found  her  little  mirror;  there  wasn't  any 
smudge  on  her  face,  after  all,  and  her  hair  wasn't 
so  terribly  unbecoming  that  way;  tousled,  to  be 
sure,  but  then,  nice,  curly  hair  can  be  tousled  and 
still  not  make  one  a  perfect  hag.  It  was  odd  about 
his  mare  being  named  Helen.  He  must  have 
thought  the  name  pretty,  for  obviously  he  and  his 

17 


Desert  Valley 

horse  were  both  intimate  and  affectionate.  "  Alan 
Howard."  Here,  too,  was  rather  a  nice  name  for 
a  man  met  by  chance  out  in  the  desert.  She  paused 
in  the  act  of  brushing  her  hair:  Was  she  to  get 
an  explanation  of  last  night's  puzzle?  Was 
Mr.  Howard  the  man  who  had  lighted  the  other 
fire? 

The  professor's  taciturnity  was  of  a  pronounced 
order  this  morning.  Now  and  then  as  he  made  his 
own  brief  and  customarily  untidy  toilet,  he  turned 
a  look  of  accusation  upon  the  big  Colt  lying  on  his 
bed.  Before  drawing  on  his  boots  he  bestowed 
upon  his  toe  a  long  glance  of  affection;  the  bullet 
that  had  passed  within  a  very  few  inches  of  this 
adjunct  of  his  anatomy  had  emphasized  a  toe's  im 
portance.  He  had  never  realized  how  pleasant  it  was 
to  have  two  big  toes,  all  one's  own  and  unmarred. 
By  the  time  the  foot  had  been  coaxed  and  jammed 
down  into  his  new  boot  the  professor's  good  humor 
was  on  the  way  to  being  restored;  a  man  of  one 
thought  at  the  time,  due  to  his  long  habit  of  con- 
,  centration,  his  emotion  was  now  one  of  a  subdued 
rejoicing.  It  needed  but  the  morning  cup  of  coffee 
to  set  him  beaming  upon  the  world. 

Alan  Howard's  sudden  call :  "  Can  I  come  in  now, 
folks?"  from  across  a  brief  space  of  sand  and 
brush,  found  Professor  Longstreet  on  his  knees 
feeding  twigs  to  a  tiny  blaze,  and  hastened.  Helen 
through  the  final  touches  of  her  dressing.  Helen 
was  humming  softly  to  herself,  her  back  to  him, 
her  mind  obviously  concentrated  upon  the  bread  she 
was  slicing,  when  the  stranger  swung  down  from 
his  saddle  and  came  forward.  He  stood  a  moment 

18 


Superstition  Pool 

just  behind  her,  looking  at  her  with  very  evident 
interest  in  his  eyes. 

"  How  do  you  like  our  part  of  the  world?  "  he 
asked  friendly-wise. 

Helen  ignored  him  briefly.  Had  Mr.  Alan 
Howard  been  a  bashful  young  man  of  the  type  that 
reddens  and  twists  its  hat  in  big  nervous  hands  and 
looks  guilty  in  general,  Miss  Helen  Longstreet 
would  have  been  swiftly  all  that  was  sweet  and 
kind  to  him.  Now,  however,  from  some  vague 
reason  or  clouded  instinct,  she  was  prepared  to  be 
as  stiff  as  the  fanged  stalk  of  a  cactus.  Having 
ignored  him  the  proper  length  of  time,  she  replied 
coolly : 

"  Father  and  I  are  very  much  pleased  with  the 
desert  country.  But,  may  I  ask  just  why  you  speak 
of  it  as  your  part  of  the  world  rather  than  ours? 
Are  we  trespassing,  pray?  "  The  afterthought  was 
accompanied  by  an  upflashing  look  that  was  little 
less  than  outright  challenge. 

"Trespassing?  Lord,  no,"  conceded  Howard 
heartily.  "  The  land  is  wide,  the  trail  open  at 
both  ends.  But  you  know  what  I  meant." 

Helen  shrugged  and  laid  aside  the  half-loaf. 
Since  she  gave  him  no  answer  Howard  went  on 
serenely : 

"  I  mean  a  man  sort  of  acquires  a  feeling  of 
ownership  in  the  place  in  which  he  has  lived  a  long 
time.  You  and  your  father  are  Eastern,  not  Western. 
If  I  came  tramping  into  your  neck  of  the  woods — 
You  see  I  call  it  yours.  Right  enough,  too,  don't 
you  think,  professor?" 

"In  a  way  of  speaking,  yes,"%answered  the  pro- 

19 


Desert  Valley 

fessor.  "In  another  way,  no.  We  have  given  up 
the  old  haunts  and  the  old  way  of  living.  We  are 
rather  inclined,  my  dear  young  sir,  to  look  upon  this 
as  our  country,  too." 

"  Bully  for  you ! "  cried  Howard  warmly. 
"  You're  sure  welcome."  His  eyes  came  back 
from  the  father  to  rest  upon  the  daughter's  bronze 
tresses.  "  Welcome  as  a  water-hole  in  a  hot  land," 
he  added  emphatically. 

"  Speaking  of  water-holes,"  suggested  Longstreet, 
sitting  back  upon  his  boot  heels  in  a  manner  to 
suggest  the  favorite  squatting  position  of  the 
cowboys  of  whom  he  and  his  daughter  had  seen 
much  during  these  last  few  weeks;  "  was  it  you 
who  made  camp  right  over  yonder?"  He 
pointed. 

Helen  looked  up  curiously  for  Howard's  answer 
and  thus  met  the  eyes  he  had  not  withdrawn  from 
her.  He  smiled  at  her,  a  frank,  open  sort  of  smile, 
and  thereafter  turned  to  his  questioner. 

"When?"  he  asked  briefly. 

"  Last  night.    Just  before  we  came." 

"  What  makes  you  think  someone  made  camp 
there?" 

"  There  was  a  fire ;  bacon  was  frying,  coffee 
boiling." 

"  And  you  didn't  step  across  to  take  a  squint  at 
your  next-door  neighbor?" 

"We  did,"  said  the  professor.  "But  he  had 
gone,  leaving  his  fire  burning,  his  meal  cooking." 

Howard's  eyes  traveled  swiftly  to  Helen,  then 
back  to  her  father. 

"And  he  didn't  come  back?" 
20 


Superstition  Pool 

"  He  did  not,"  said  Longstreet.  "  Otherwise  I 
should  not  have  asked  if  you  were  he." 

Even  yet  Howard  gave  no  direct  answer.  In 
stead  he  turned  his  back  and  strode  away  to  the 
deserted  camp  site.  Helen  watched  him  through 
the  bushes  and  noted  how  he  made  a  quick  but  evi 
dently  thorough  examination  of  the  spot.  She  saw 
him  stoop,  pick  up  frying-pan  and  cup,  drop  them 
and  pass  around  the  spring,  his  eyes  on  the  ground. 
Abruptly  he  turned  away  and  pushed  through  a 
clump  of  bushes,  disappearing.  In  five  minutes  he 
returned,  his  face  thoughtful. 

"  What  time  did  you  get  here?  "  he  asked.  And 
when  he  had  his  answer  he  pondered  it  a  moment 
before  he  went  on:  "  The  gent  didn't  leave  his  card. 
But  he  broke  camp  in  a  regular  blue-blazes  hurry; 
saddled  his  horse  over  yonder  and  struck  out  the 
shortest  way  toward  King  Canon.  He  went  as  if  the 
devil  himself  and  his  one  best  bet  in  hell  hounds 
was  running  at  his  stirrup." 

"  How  do  you  know?"  queried  Longstreet's 
insatiable  curiosity.  "  You  didn't  see  him?  " 

"  You  saw  the  fire  and  the  things  he  left  stewing," 
countered  Howard.  "  They  spelled  hurry,  didn't 
they?  Didn't  they  shout  into  your  ears  that  he 
was  on  the  lively  scamper  for  some  otherwhere?'1 

"  Not  necessarily,"  maintained  Longstreet  eagerly. 
"  Reasoning  from  the  scant  evidence  before  us  a 
man  would  say  that  while  the  stranger  may  have 
left  his  camp  to  hurry  on,  he  may  on  the  other  hand 
have  just  dodged  back  when  he  heard  us  coming 
and  hidden  somewhere  close  by." 

Again  Howard  pondered  briefly. 

21 


Desert  Valley 

*  There  are  other  signs  you  did  not  see,"  he  said 
in  a  moment.  "  The  soil  where  he  had  his  horse 
staked  out  shows  tracks  and  they  are  the  tracks  of 
a  horse  going  some  from  the  first  jump.  Horse  and 
man  took  the  straightest  trail  and  went  ripping 
through  a  patch  of  mesquite  that  a  man  would  gen 
erally  go  round.  Then  there's  something  else. 
Want  to  see?  " 

They  went  with  him,  the  professor  with  alacrity, 
Helen  with  a  studied  pretense  at  indifference.  By 
the  spring  where  Helen  had  found  the  willow  rod 
and  the  bluebird  feather,  Howard  stopped  and 
pointed  down. 

"  There's  a  set  of  tracks  for  you,"  he  announced 
triumphantly.  "  Suppose  you  spell  'em  out,  pro 
fessor;  what  do  you  make  of  them?" 

The  professor  studied  them  gravely.  In  the  end 
he  shook  his  head. 

"  Coyote?  "  he  suggested. 

Howard  shook  his  head. 

"  No  coyote,"  he  said  with  positiveness.  "  That 
track  shows  a  foot  four  times  as  big  as  any  coyote's 
that  ever  scratched  fleas.  Wolf?  Maybe.  It 
would  be  a  whopper  of  a  wolf  at  that.  Look  at 
the  size  of  it,  man!  Why,  the  ugly  brute  would 
be  big  enough  to  scare  my  prize  Shorthorn  bull 
into  taking  out  life  insurance.  And  that  isn't  all. 
That's  just  the  front  foot.  Now  look  at  the  hind 
foot.  Smaller,  longer,  and  leaving  a  lighter  imprint. 
All  belonging  to  the  same  animal."  He  scratched 
his  head  in  frank  bewilderment.  "  It's  a  new  one 
on  me,"  he  confessed  frankly.  Then  he  chuckled. 
"  I'd  bet  a  man  that  the  gent  who  left  on  the  hasty 

22 


Superstition  Pool 

foot  just  got  one  squint  at  this  little  beastie  and  at 
that  had  all  sorts  of  good  reasons  for  streaking 
out." 

A  big  lizard  went  rustling  through  a  pile  of  dead 
leaves  and  all  three  of  them  started.  Howard 
laughed. 

"  We're  right  near  Superstition  Pool,"  he  in 
formed  them  with  suddenly  assumed  gravity. 
"  Down  in  Poco  Poco  they  tell  some  great  tales 
about  the  old  Indian  gods  going  man-hunting  by 
moonlight.  Qmen  sabe,  huh?" 

Professor  Longstreet  snorted.  Helen  cast  a 
quick,  interested  look  at  the  stranger  and  one  of 
near  triumph  upon  her  father. 

"  I  smell  somebody's  coffee  boiling,"  said  the 
cattleman  abruptly.  "  Am  I  invited  in  for  a  cup? 
Or  shall  I  mosey  on?  Don't  be  bashful  in  saying 
I'm  not  wanted  if  I'm  not." 

"  Of  course  you  are  welcome,"  said  Longstreet 
heartily.  But  Howard  turned  to  Helen  and  waited 
for  her  to  speak. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Helen  carelessly. 


CHAPTER  III 
PAYMENT  IN  RAW  GOLD 

'"V^OU  were  merely  speaking  by  way  of  jest,  I 
JL  take  it,  Mr.  Howard,"  remarked  Longstreet, 
after  he  had  interestedly  watched  the  rancher  put  a 
third  and  fourth  heaping  spoonful  of  sugar  in  his  tin 
cup  of  coffee.  "  I  refer,  you  understand,  to  your 
hinting  a  moment  ago  at  there  being  any  truth  in 
the  old  Indian  superstitions.  I  am  not  to  suppose, 
am  I,  that  you  actually  give  any  credence  to 
tales  of  supernatural  influences  manifested  herea 
bouts?7' 

Alan  Howard  stirred  his  coffee  meditatively  and 
after  so  leisurely  a  fashion  that  Longstreet  began 
to  fidget.  The  reply,  when  finally  it  came,  was  suf 
ficiently  noncommittal. 

"  I  said  '  Quien  sabe?'  to  the  question  just  now," 
he  said,  a  twinkle  in  the  regard  bestowed  upon  the 
scientist.  "  They  are  two  pretty  good  little  old 
words  and  fit  in  first-rate  lots  of  times." 

"  Spanish  for  'Who  knows?'  aren't  they?" 
Howard  nodded.     "They  used  to  be  Spanish;  I 
guess  they're  Mex  by  now." 

Longstreet  frowned  and  returned  to  the  issue. 

"  If  you  were  merely  jesting,  as  I  supposed — " 

"  But  was  I  ?  "  demanded  Howard.    "  What  do  I 

know  about  it?     I  know  horses  and  cows;  that's 

my  business.     I  know  a  thing  or  two  about  men, 

24 


Payment  in  Raw  Gold 

since  that's  my  business  at  times,  too;  also  some 
thing  like  half  of  that  about  half-breeds  and  mules; 
I  meet  up  with  them  sometimes  in  the  run  of  the 
day's  work.  You  know  something  of  what  I  think 
you  call  auriferous  geology.  But  what  does  either 
of  us  know  of  the  nightly  custom  of  dead  Indians 
and  Indian  gods?" 

Helen  wondered  with  her  father  whether  there 
were  a  vein  of  seriousness  in  the  man's  thought. 
Howard  squatted  on  his  heels  from  which  he  had 
removed  his  spurs;  they  were  very  high  heels,  but 
none  the  less  he  seemed  comfortably  at  home  rocking 
on  them.  Longstreet  noted  with  his  keen  eyes, 
altered  his  own  squatting  position  a  fraction,  and 
opened  his  mouth  for  another  question.  But  How 
ard  forestalled  him,  saying  casually: 

"  I  have  known  queer  things  to  happen  here, 
within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  this  place.  I  haven't 
had  time  to  go  finding  out  the  why  of  them;  they 
didn't  come  into  my  day's  work.  I  have  listened  to 
some  interesting  yarns;  truth  or  lies  it  didn't  mat 
ter  to  me.  They  say  that  ghosts  haunt  the  pool 
just  yonder.  I  have  never  seen  a  ghost;  there's 
nothing  in  raising  ghosts  for  market,  and  I'm  the 
busiest  man  I  know  trying  to  chew  a  chunk  that 
I  have  bitten  off.  They  tell  you  down  at  San  Juan 
and  in  Poco  Poco,  and  all  the  way  up  to  Tecolote, 
that  if  you  will  come  here  a  certain  moonlight  night 
of  the  year  and  will  watch  the  water  of  the  pool, 
you'll  see  a  vision  sent  up  by  the  gods  of  the  Under 
world.  .They'll  even  tell  you  how  a  nice  little  old 
god  by  the  name  of  Pookhonghoya  appears  now  and 
then  by  night,  hunting  souls  of  enemies — and  running 

25 


Desert  Valley 

by  the  side  of  the  biggest,  strangest  wolf  that  human 
eyes  ever  saw." 

Helen  looked  at  him  swiftly.  He  had  added  the 
last  item  almost  as  an  afterthought.  She  imagined 
that  he  had  embellished  the  old  tale  from  his  own 
recent  experience  and,  further,  that  Mr.  Alan 
Howard  was  making  fun  of  them  and  was  no  adept 
in  the  science  of  fabrication. 

"  They  go  further,"  Howard  spun  out  his  tale. 
"  Somewhere  in  the  desert  country  to  the  north  there 
is,  I  believe,  a  tribe  of  Hidden  People  that  the 
white  man  has  never  seen.  The  interesting  thing 
about  them  is  that  they  are  governed  by  a  young 
and  altogether  maddeningly  pretty  goddess  who  is 
white  and  whose  name  is  Yahoya. — When  they  come 
right  down  to  the  matter  of  giving  names,"  he 
added  gravely,  "  how  is  a  man  to  go  any  further 
than  just  say,  '  Quien  sabe?'" 

"  That  is  stupid,"  said  Longstreet  irascibly. 
"  It's  a  man's  chief  affair  in  life  to  know.  These 
absurd  legends — " 

"  Don't  you  think,  papa,"  said  Helen  coolly, 
"  that  instead  of  taxing  Mr.  Howard's  memory  and 
— and  imagination,  it  would  be  better  if  you  asked 
him  about  our  way  from  here  on?" 

Howard  chuckled.  Professor  Longstreet  set 
aside  his  cup,  cleared  his  throat  and  agreed  with 
his  daughter. 

"  I  am  prospecting,"  he  announced,  "  for  gold. 
We  are  headed  for  what  is  known  as  the  Last 
Ridge  country.  I  have  a  map  here." 

He  drew  it  from  his  pocket,  neatly  folded,  and 
spread  it  out.  It  was  a  map  such  as  is  to  Be  pur- 

26 


Payment  in  Raw  Gold 

chased  for  fifty  cent  at  the  store  in  San  Juan,  show 
ing  the  main  roach,  towns,  water-holes  and  trails. 
With  a  blue  pencil  he  had  marked  out  the  way  they 
planned  to  go.  Howard  bent  forward  and  took  the 
paper. 

"  We  are  going  the  same  way,  friend,"  he  said 
as  he  looked  up.  "What  is  more,  we  are  going 
over  a  trail  I  know  by  heart.  There  is  a  good 
chance  I  can  save  you  time  and  trouble  by  making 
it  a  party  of  three.  Am  I  wanted?" 

"  It  is  extremely  kind  of  you,"  said  Longstreet 
appreciatively.  "  But  you  are  on  horseback  and 
we  travel  slowly." 

"  I  can  spare  the  time,"  was  the  even  rejoinder. 
"  And  I'll  be  glad  to  do  it" 

During  the  half-hour  required  to  break  camp  and 
pack  the  two  horses,  Alan  Howard  gave  signs  of 
an  interest  which  now  and  then  mounted  almost  to 
high  delight.  He  made  no  remark  concerning  the 
elaborate  system  of  water  bottles  and  canteens,  but 
his  eyes  brightened  as  he  aided  the  professor  in 
making  them  fast.  When  the  procession  was  ready 
to  start  he  strode  on  ahead,  leading  his  own  horse 
and  hiding  from  his  new  friends  the  widening  grin 
upon  his  face. 

The  sun  was  up;  already  the  still  heat  of  the 
desert  was  in  the  air.  Behind  the  tall  rancher  and 
his  glossy  mare  came  Professor  Longstreet  driving 
his  two  pack  animals.  Just  behind  him,  with  much 
grave  speculation  in  her  eyes,  came  Helen.  A  new 
man  had  swum  all  unexpectedly  into  her  ken  and  she 
was  busy  cataloguing  him.  He  looked  the  native  in 
this  environment,  but  for  all  that  he  was  plainly  a 

27 


Desert  Valley 

man  of  her  own  class.  No  ^literacy,  no  wild,  shy, 
awkwardness  marked  his  dem  anor.  He  was  as  free 
and  easy  as  the  north  wind;  he  might,  after  all,  be 
likable.  Certainly  it  was  courtols  of  him  to  set 
himself  on  foot  to  be  one  of  them.  The  mare  looked 
gentle  despite  her  high  life;  Helen  wondered  if 
Alan  Howard  had  thought  of  offering  her  his 
mount  ? 

They  had  come  to  the  first  of  the  low-lying  hills. 

"  Miss  Longstreet,"  called  Howard,  stopping 
and  turning,  "  wouldn't  you  like  to  swing  up  on 
Sanchia?  She  is  dying  to  be  ridden." 

The  trail  here  was  wide  and  clearly  defined;  hence 
Longstreet  and  his  two  horses  went  by  and  Helen 
came  up  with  Howard.  Hers  was  the  trick  of  level, 
searching  eyes.  She  looked  steadily  at  him  as  she 
said  evenly: 

"  So  her  name  is  Sanchia?" 

For  an  instant  the  man  did  not  appear  to  under 
stand.  Then  suddenly  Helen  was  treated  to  the 
sight  of  the  warm  red  seeping  up  under  his  tan. 
And  then  he  slapped  his  thigh  and  laughed,  his 
laughter  seeming  unaffected  and  joyous. 

"  Talk  about  getting  absent-minded  in  my  old 
age,"  he  declared.  "  Her  name  did  use  to  be 
Sanchia ;  I  changed  it  to  Helen.  Think  of  my  slid 
ing  back  to  the  old  name." 

Helen's  candid  look  did  not  shift  for  the  moment 
that  she  paused.  Then  she  went  on  by  him,  fol 
lowing  her  father,  saying  merely: 

"  Thank  you,  I'll  walk.  And  if  she  were  mine 
Fd  keep  the  old  name;  Sanchia  suits  her  exactly." 

But  as  she  hurried  on  after  her  father  she  had 
28 


Pay 


in  Raw  Gold 


time  for  reflection;  plainly  the  easy-mannered  Mr. 
Alan  Howard  had  renamed  his  mare  only  this  very 
morning;  as  plainly  had  he  in  the  first  place  called 
her  Sanchia  in  honor  of  some  other  friend  or  chance 
acquaintance.  Helen  wondered  vaguely  who  the 
original  Sanchia  was.  To  her  imagination  the  name 
suggested  a  slim,  big-eyed  Mexican  girl.  She  found 
time  to  wonder  further  how  many  times  Mr. 
Howard  had  named  his  horse. 

They  skirted  a  hill,  dipped  into  the  hollow  which 
gave  passageway  between  this  hill  and  its  twin 
neighbor,  mounted  briefly,  and  within  twenty  minutes 
came  to  the  pool  about  which  legends  flocked. 
From  their  vantage  point  they  looked  down  upon 
it.  The  sun  searched  it  out  almost  at  the  instant 
that  their  eyes  caught  the  glint  of  it.  Fed  by  many 
hidden  springs  it  was  a  still,  smooth  body  of  water 
in  the  bowl  of  the  hills;  it  looked  cool  and  deep  and 
had  its  own  air  of  mystery;  in  its  ancient  bosom  it 
may  have  hidden  bones  or  gold.  Some  devotee  had 
planted  a  weeping  willow  here  long  ago;  the  great 
tree  now  flourished  and  cast  its  reflection  across  its 
own  fallen  leaves. 

Helen's  eyes  dreamed  and  sought  visions;  the 
'spot  touched  her  with  its  romance  and  she,  after  the 
true  style  of  youth,  lent  aid  to  the  still  influences. 
Alan  Howard,  to  whom  this  was  scarcely  other  than 
an  everyday  matter,  turned  naturally  to  the  new 
and  was  content  to  watch  the  girl.  As  for  Long- 
street,  his  regard  was  busied  with  the  stones  at  his 
feet  and  thereafter  with  a  washout  upon  a  hillside 
where  the  formation  of  the  hills  themselves  was  laid 
bare  to  a  scientific  eye. 

29 


Desert  Valley 

"  There's  gold  everywhere  about  here,"  he  an 
nounced  placidly.  "  But  not  in  the  quantities  I 
have  promised  you,  Helen.  We'll  go  on  to  the 
Last  Ridge  country  before  we  stop." 

Howard  turned  from  the  daughter  to  consider 
the  father  long  and  searchingly,  after  the  way  of 
one  man  seeking  another's  measure. 

"  As  a  rule  I  go  kind  of  slow  when  it  comes  to 
cutting  in  on  another  fellow's  play,"  he  said  bluntly. 
"  But  I'm  going  to  chip  in  now  with  this:  I  know 
that  Last  Ridge  country  from  horn  to  tail  and  all 
the  gold  that's  in  it  or  has  ever  been  in  it  wouldn't 
buy  a  drink  of  bad  whiskey  in  Poco  Poco." 

The  light  of  forensic  battle  leaped  up  bright  and 
eager  in  Longstreet's  eyes.  But  Howard  saw  it,  and 
before  the  professor's  unshaken  positiveness  could 
pour  itself  forth  in  a  forensic  flood  the  rancher  cut 
the  whole  matter  short  by  saying  crisply: 

"  I  know.  And  it's  up  to  you.  I've  shot  my 
volley  to  give  you  the  right  slant  and  you  can  play 
out  your  string  your  own  way.  Right  now  we'd 
better  be  moseying  on;  the  sun's  climbing,  pardner." 

He  passed  by  them,  leading  his  mare  toward  a 
crease  in  the  hills  which  gave  ready  passage  out  of 
the  bowl  and  again  to  the  sweep  of  the  desert. 
Longstreet  dropped  in  behind  him,  driving  his  two 
horses,  while  Helen  stood  a  little  alone  by  the  pool, 
looking  at  it  with  eyes  which  still  brooded.  In  her 
hatband  was  a  bluebird  feather;  her  fingers  rose 
to  it  reminiscently.  A  faint,  dying  breeze  just 
barely  stirred  the  drooping  branches  of  the  willow; 
in  one  place  the  graceful  pendant  leaves  merged 
with  their  own  reflections  below,  faintly  blurring 

30 


Payment  in  Raw  Gold 

them  with  the  slightest  of  ripples.  Here,  in  the 
sunlight,  was  a  languid  place  of  dreams;  by  mellow, 
magic  moonlight  what  wonder  if  there  came  hither 
certain  of  the  last  remnants  and  relics  of  an  old 
superstitious  people,  seeking  visions?  And  an  old 
saw  hath  it,  "  What  ye  seek  for  ye  shall  find." 

Helen  looked  up;  already  Howard  had  passed 
out  of  sight;  already  her  father's  two  pack  horses 
had  followed  the  rancher's  mare  beyond  the  brushy 
flank  of  the  hill  and  Longstreet  himself  would  be 
out  of  her  sight  in  another  moment.  She  turned 
a  last  look  upon  the  still  pond  and  hurried  on. 

Now  again,  as  upon  yesterday  and  the  day  be 
fore,  the  desert  seemed  without  limit  about  them. 
The  hot  sun  mounted;  the  earth  sweltered  and 
baked  and  blistered.  Heat  waves  shimmered  in  the 
distances;  the  distances  themselves  were  withdrawn 
into  the  veil  of  ultimate  distances  over  which  the 
blazing  heat  lay  in  what  seemed  palpable  strata; 
crunching  rock  and  gravel  in  the  dry  water-courses 
burned  through  thick  sole-leather;  burning  particles 
of  sand  got  into  boots  and  irritated  the  skin ;  humans 
and  horses  toiled  on,  hour  after  hour,  from  early 
listlessness  to  weariness  and,  before  noon,  to  parched 
misery.  Even  Howard,  who  confessed  that  he  was 
little  used  to  walking,  admitted  that  this  sort  of 
thing  made  no  great  Kit  with  him.  During  the  fore 
noon  he  again  offered  his  mount  to  Helen;  when 
she  sought  to  demur  and  hoped  to  be  persuaded,  he 
suggested  a  compromise ;  they  would  take  turns,  she, 
her  father  and  himself.  By  noon,  when  they  camped 
for  lunch  and  a  two  hours'  rest,  all  three  had  ridden. 

Barely  perceptibly  the   sweeps  about  them  had 

31 


Desert  Valley 

altered  during  the  last  hour  before  midday.  Here 
and  there  were  low  hills  dotted  occasionally  by 
trees,  covered  with  sparse  dry  grass.  Here,  said 
Howard,  were  the  outer  fringes  of  the  grazing  land; 
his  cattle  sometimes  strayed  as  far  as  this.  The 
spot  chosen  for  nooning  was  a  suspicion  less  breath 
lessly  hot;  there  was  a  sluggish  spring  ringed  about 
with  wiry  green  grass  and  shaded  by  a  clump  of 
mongrel  trees. 

Helen  ate  little  and  then  lay  down  and  slept. 
Longstreet,  his  knees  gathered  in  his  arms,  his  back 
to  a  tree,  sat  staring  thoughtfully  across  the  billowing 
country  before  them;  Howard  smoked  a  cigarette, 
stood  a  moment  looking  curiously  down  at  the  weary 
figure  of  the  girl,  and  then  strode  off  to  the  next 
shade  for  his  own  siesta. 

"  Rode  pretty  well  all  night,"  he  explained  half 
apologetically  to  Longstreet  as  he  went.  "  And 
haven't  walked  this  much  since  last  time." 

Between  two  and  three  they  started  on  again. 
It  grew  cooler;  constantly  as  they  went  forward  the 
earth  showed  growing  signs  of  fertility  and,  here 
and  there,  of  moisture  guarded  and  treasured  under 
a  shaggy  coat  of  herbage.  Within  the  first  hour 
they  glimpsed  a  number  of  scattered  cattle  and 
mules;  once  Helen  cried  out  at  the  discovery  of  a 
small  herd  of  deer  browsing  in  a  shaded  draw. 
Then  came  a  low  divide;  upon  its  crest  was  an  out 
cropping  of  rock.  Here  Howard  waited  until  his 
two  companions  came  up  with  him;  from  here  he 
pointed,  sweeping  his  arm  widely  from  north  to 
east  and  south  of  east. 

32 


Payment  in  Raw  Gold 

"  The  Last  Ridge  country,  yonder/'  he  said. 

They  saw  it  against  the  northeastern  horizon. 
From  the  base  of  the  hills  on  which  they  stood  a 
broad  valley  spread  out  generously.  Marking  the 
valley's  northern  boundary  some  half-dozen  miles 
away,  thrown  up  against  the  sky  like  a  bulwark, 
was  a  long  broken  ridge  like  a  wall  of  cliff,  an 
embankment  stained  the  many  colors  of  the  South 
west;  red  it  looked  in  streaks  and  yellow  and  orange 
and  even  lavender  and  pale  elusive  green.  It  swept 
in  a  broad,  irregular  curve  about  the  further  level 
lands;  it  was  carved  and  notched  along  its  crest  into 
strange  shapes,  here  thrusting  upward  in  a  single 
needle-like  tower,  there  offering  to  the  clear  sky  a 
growth  like  a  monster  toadstool,  again  notched  into 
saw-tooth  edges. 

"  And  here,"  said  Howard,  his  voice  eloquent  of 
his  pride  of  ownership,  "  my  valley  lands.  From 
Last  Ridge  to  the  hills  across  yonder,  from  those 
hills  as  far  as  you  can  see  to  the  south,  mile  after 
mile  of  it,  it's  mine,  by  the  Lord!  That  is,"  he 
amended  with  a  slow  smile  under  Helen's  amazed 
eyes,  "  when  I  get  it  all  paid  for!  And  there,"  he 
continued,  pointing  this  time  to  something  white 
showing  through  the  green  of  a  grove  upon  a 
meadow  land  far  off  toward  the  southern  rim  of  the 
valley,  "  there  is  home.  You'll  know  the  way;  I'm 
only  twelve  or  fifteen  miles  from  the  Ridge  and 
so,  you  see,  we're  next-door  neighbors." 

To  Helen,  as  she  gazed  whither  his  finger  led, 
came  a  strange,  unaccustomed  thrill.  For  the  first 
time  she  felt  the  glory,  and  forgot  the  discomfort, 

33 


Desert  Valley 

of  the  hot  sun  and  the  hot  land.  There  was  a 
man's  home;  set  apart  from  the  world  and  yet  suf 
ficient  unto  itself;  here  was  a  man's  holding,  one 
man's,  and  it  was  as  big  and  wide  as  a  king's  estate. 
She  looked  swiftly  at  the  tall  man  at  her  side;  it  was 
his  or  would  be  his.  And  he  need  not  have  told 
her;  what  she  had  read  in  the  timbre  of  his  voice 
she  saw  written  large  in  his  eyes;  they  were  bright 
with  the  joy  of  possession. 

"  Neighbors,  folks,"  he  was  saying.  "  So  let's 
begin  things  in  neighborly  style.  Come  on  home 
with  me  now;  stick  over  a  day  or  so  resting  up. 
Then  I'll  send  a  wagon  and  a  couple  of  the  boys 
over  to  the  ridge  with  you  and  they'll  lend  you 
a  hand  at  digging  in  for  the  length  of  your  stay. 
It's  the  sensible  thing,"  he  insisted  argumentatively 
as  he  saw  how  Longstreet's  gaze  grew  eager  for 
the  Ridge.  "  And  I'd  consider  it  an  honor,  a  high 
honor." 

"  You  are  extremely  kind,  sir,"  said  Longstreet 
hesitatingly.  "  But — " 

"  Come  on,"  cut  in  Howard  warmly,  his  hand 
on  the  older  man's  shoulders.  "  Just  as  a  favor 
to  me,  neighbor.  Everything's  plain  out  our  way; 
nothing  fancy.  But  I've  got  clean  beds  to  sleep 
in  and  the  kitchen  store-room's  full  and —  Why, 
man,  I've  even  got  a  bathtub!  Come  ahead;  be 
a  sport  and  take  a  chance." 

Longstreet  smiled;  Helen  watched  him  ques- 
tioningly.  Suddenly  she  realized  that  she  was  a 
trifle  curious  about  Alan  Howard;  bath  and  clean 
beds  did  tempt  her  weary  body  and  besides  there 
would  be  a  certain  interest  in  looking  in  upon  the 

34 


Payment  in  Raw  Gold 

stranger's  establishment.  She  wondered  for  the 
first  time  if  there  were  a  young  Mrs.  Howard 
awaiting  him? 

"How  about  it,  Helen?"  asked  her  father. 
"  Shall  we  accept  further  of  this  gentleman's  kind 
ness?" 

"  If  we  were  sure,"  hesitated  Helen,  "  that  we 
would  not  be  imposing — " 

So  it  was  settled,  and  Howard,  highly  pleased, 
led  the  way  down  into  the  valley.  Making  the 
gradual  descent  their  trail,  well  marked  now  by  the 
shod  hoofs  of  horses,  wound  into  a  shady  hollow. 
In  the  heart  of  this  where  there  was  a  thin  trickle 
of  water  Howard  stopped  abruptly.  Helen,  who 
was  close  to  him,  heard  him  mutter  something  under 
his  breath  and  in  a  new  tone  of  wrath.  She  looked 
at  him  wondering.  He  strode  across  the  stream  and 
stopped  again ;  he  stooped  and  she  saw  what  he  had 
seen ;  he  straightened  up  and  she  saw  blazing  anger 
in  his  eyes. 

Here,  no  longer  ago  than  yesterday,  a  yearling 
beef  had  been  slaughtered;  the  carcass  lay  half 
hidden  by  the  bushes. 

"  Now  who  the  hell  did  that  for  me?"  cried  out 
the  man  angrily.  "  Look  here;  he's  killed  a  beef 
for  a  couple  of  steaks !  He's  taken  that  and  left  the 
rest  for  the  buzzards.  The  low-down,  hog-hearted 
son  of  a  scurvy  coyote." 

Helen  held  back,  frightened  at  what  she  read  in 
his  face.  Her  father  came  up  with  her  and  de 
manded  : 

;4  What  is  it?    What's  wrong?  " 

"  Someone    has    killed    one    of   his   cows,"    she 

35 


Desert  Valley 

whispered,  catching  hold  of  his  arm.  "  I  believe 
he  would  kill  the  man  who  did  it." 

Howard  was  looking  about  him  for  signs  to  tell 
whence  the  marauder  had  come,  whither  gone.  He 
picked  up  a  fresh  rib  bone,  that  had  been  hacked 
from  its  place  with  a  heavy  knife  and  then  gnawed 
and  broken  as  by  a  wolfs  savage  teeth.  He  noted 
something  else;  he  went  to  it  hurriedly.  Upon  a 
conspicuous  rock,  held  in  place  by  a  smaller  stone, 
was  a  small  rawhide  pouch.  It  was  heavy  in  his 
palm;  he  opened  it  and  poured  its  contents  into  his 
palm.  And  these  contents  he  showed  to  Longstreet 
and  Helen,  looking  at  them  wonderingly. 

"  The  gent  took  what  he  wanted  but  he  paid 
for  it,"  he  said  slowly.  u  In  enough  raw  gold 
to  buy  half  a  dozen  young  beeves !  That's  fair 
enough,  isn't  it?  The  chances  are  he  was  in  a 
hurry." 

"  Maybe,"  suggested  Helen  quickly,  "  he  was  the 
same  man  whose  camp  fire  we  found.  He  was  in 
a  hurry." 

Howard  pondered  but  finally  shook  his  head. 
"No;  that  man  had  bacon  and  coffee  to  leave  be 
hind  him.  It  was  some  other  jasper." 

Longstreet  was  absorbed  in  another  interest.  He 
took  the  unminted  gold  into  his  own  hands,  finger 
ing  it  and  studying  it. 

"  It  is  around  here  everywhere,  my  dear,"  he  told 
Helen  with  his  old  placid  assurance.  "  It  is  quite 
as  I  have  said;  if  you  want  fish  look  for  them  in 
the  sea;  if  you  seek  gold,  not  in  insignificant  quan 
tities,  but  in  a  great,  thick,  rich  ledge,  come  out 
toward  the  Last  Ridge  country." 

36 


Payment  in  Raw  Gold 

He  returned  the  raw  metal  to  Howard,  who 
dropped  it  into  its  bag  and  the  bag  into  his  pocket. 
Silent  now  as  each  one  found  company  in  his  own 
thoughts,  they  moved  down  the  slope  and  into  the 
valley. 


37 


CHAPTER  IV 
IN  DESERT  VALLEY 

THE  World  is  an  abiding-place  of  glory.  He 
who  cannot  see  it  dyed  and  steeped  in  colorful 
hues  owes  it  to  his  own  happiness  to  gird  up  his  loins 
and  move  on  into  another  of  the  splendid  chambers 
of  the  vast  house  God  has  given  us;  if  the  daily  view 
before  him  no  longer  offers  delight,  it  is  merely  and 
simply  because  his  eyes  have  grown  accustomed  to 
what  lies  just  before  them  and  are  wearied  with  it. 
For,  after  all,  one  but  requires  a  complete  change 
of  environment  to  quicken  eye  and  interest,  to  fill 
again  the  world  with  color.  Thus,  put  the  man 
of  the  sea  in  the  heart  of  the  mountains  and  he  stares 
about  him  at  a  thousand  little  things  which  pass  un 
noted  under  the  calm  eyes  of  the  mountaineer.  Or 
take  up  the  dweller  of  the  heights  and  set  him 
aboard  a  windjammer  bucking  around  the  Horn 
and  he  will  marvel  at  a  sailor's  song  or  the  wide 
arc  of  a  dizzy  mast.  So  Helen  Longstreet  now, 
lifted  from  a  college  city  of  the  East  and  set  down 
upon  the  level  floor  of  the  West;  so,  in  the  less 
nervous  way  of  greater  years,  her  father. 

The  three  were  full  two  hours  in  walking  from 
the  base  of  the  hills  to  Howard's  ranch  head 
quarters.  Continuously  the  girl  found  fresh  inter 
ests  leaping  into  her  quick  consciousness.  They 
waded  knee  deep  in  lush  grass  of  a  meadow  into 


In  Desert  Valley 

which  Howard  had  brought  water  from  the  hills; 
among  the  grass  were  strange  flowers,  red  and  yellow 
and  blue,  rising  on  tall  stalks  to  lift  their  heads  to 
the  golden  sun.  From  the  grass  rose  birds,  startled 
by  their  approach,  one  whirring  away  voicelessly 
from  a  hidden  nest,  another,  a  yellow-and-black- 
throated  lark,  singing  joyously.  They  crossed  the 
meadow  and  came  up  the  swelling  slope  of  a  gentle 
hill;  upon  its  flattish  top  were  oaks;  in  the  shade 
of  the  oaks  three  black-and-white  cows  looked 
with  mild,  approving  eyes  upon  their  three  tiny 
black-and-white  calves.  With  the  pictured  memory 
unfading,  Helen's  eyes  were  momentarily  held  by 
an  eagle  balancing  against  the  sky;  the  great  bird, 
as  though  he  were  conscious  that  he  held  briefly 
center  stage,  folded  his  wings  and  dropped  like  a 
falling  stone;  a  ground  squirrel  shrilled  its  terror 
through  the  still  afternoon  and  went  racing  with 
jerking  tail  toward  safety;  the  great  bird  saw  the 
frantic  animal  scuttle  down  a  hole  and  unfolded  its 
wings;  again  it  balanced  briefly,  close  to  the  ground; 
then  in  a  wide  spiral  reascended  the  sky. 

Came  then  wide  fields  with  cattle  browsing  and 
drowsing;  it  was  the  first  time  Helen  had  hearkened 
to  a  bellowing  bull,  the  first  time  she  had  seen  one 
of  his  breed  with  bent  head  pawing  up  grass  and 
earth  and  flinging  them  over  the  straight  line  of 
his  perfect  back;  she  sensed  his  lusty  challenge  and 
listened  breathlessly  to  the  answering  trumpet  'call 
from  a  distant,  hidden  corral.  She  saw  a  herd  of 
young  horses,  twenty  of  them  perhaps,  racing  wildly 
with  flying  manes  and  tails  and  flaring  nostrils;  a 
strangely  garbed  man  on  horseback  raced  after  them, 

39 


Desert  Valley 

shot  by  them,  heading  them  off,  a  wide  loop  of  rope 
hissing  above  his  head.  She  saw  the  rope  leap  out, 
seeming  to  the  last  alive  and  endowed  with  the  will 
of  the  horseman;  she  heard  the  man  laugh  softly  as 
the  noose  tightened  about  the  slender  neck  of  one 
of  the  fleeing  horses. 

"  That's  Gaucho,"  said  Howard.  "  He's  my 
horse  breaker." 

But  already  the  girl's  interests  had  winged 
another  way.  Within  ten  steps  they  had  come  to 
a  new  view  from  a  new  vantage  point.  From  some 
trick  of  sweep  and  slope  the  valley  seemed  more 
spacious  than  before;  through  a  natural  avenue  in 
an  oak  grove  they  saw  distinctly  the  still  distant 
walls  of  the  ranch  house ;  the  sun  touched  them  and 
they  gleamed  back  a  spotless  white.  Helen  was  all 
eagerness  to  come  to  the  main  building;  from  afar, 
here  of  late  having  seen  others  of  its  type,  she  knew 
that  it  would  be  adobe  and  massive,  old  and  cloaked 
with  the  romance  of  another  time;  that  even  doors 
and  windows,  let  into  the  thick  walls,  would  be  of 
another  period;  that  somewhere  there  would  be  a 
trellis  with  a  sprawling  grapevine  over  it;  that  no 
doubt  in  the  yard  or  along  the  fence  would  be  the 
yellow  Spanish  roses. 

Below  the  house  they  came  to  the  stable.  Here 
Howard  paused  to  tie  the  three  horses  but  not  to 
unpack  or  unsaddle. 

"  I  haven't  anybody  just  hanging  around  to  do ' 
things  like  this  for  me,"  he  said  lightly  as  he  re 
joined  his   guests.      "  Not  until   I    get   the   whole 
thing  paid  off.     What  men  I've  got  are  jumping 
on   the   job   from    sunup  to   dark.     I'll   turn   you 

40 


In  Desert  Valley 

loose  in  the  house  and  then  look  after  the  stock 
myself." 

They  passed  several  smaller  outbuildings,  some 
squat  and  ancient-looking  adobes,  others  newer 
frame  buildings,  all  neatly  whitewashed.  And  then 
the  home  itself.  Quite  as  Helen  has  previsioned, 
there  was  a  low  wooden  fence  about  the  garden; 
over  the  gateway  were  tangled  rose  vines  disputing 
possession  with  a  gnarled  grape;  the  walk  from  the 
gate  was  outlined  with  the  protruding  ends  of  white 
earthen  bottles,  so  in  vogue  in  the  southland  a  few 
years  ago;  a  wide,  coolly-dark  veranda  ran  the 
length  of  the  building;  through  three  feet  thick 
walls  the  doorways  invited  to  further  coolness. 
Howard  stood  aside  for  them  to  enter.  They  found 
underfoot  a  bare  floor;  it  had  been  sprinkled  from 
a  watering-pot  earlier  in  the  afternoon.  The  room 
was  big  and  dusky;  a  few  rawhide-bottomed  chairs, 
a  long  rough  table  painted  moss-green,  some  shelves 
with  books,  furnished  the  apartment.  At  one  end 
was  a  fireplace. 

Howard  tossed  his  hat  to  the  table  and  opened 
a  door  at  one  end  of  the  room.  Before  them  was 
a  hallway;  a  few  steps  down  were  two  doors,  one 
on  each  hand,  heavy  old  doors  of  thick  slabs  of 
oak,  hand-hewn  and  with  rough  iron  bands  across 
them,  top  and  bottom,  the  big  nail  heads  showing. 
Howard  threw  one  open,  then  the  other. 

'Your  rooms/'  he  said.  "  Yours,  Miss  Helen, 
opens  upon  the  bath.  You'll  have  to  go  down  the 
hall  to  wash,  professor.  Make  yourselves  free  with 
the  whole  house.  I'll  feed  the  horses  and  be  with 
you  in  three  shakes." 

41 


Desert  Valley 

Before  his  boot  heels  had  done  echoing  through 
the  living-room  it  was  an  adventure  to  Helen  to 
peep  into  her  room.  She  wondered  what  she  was 
going  to  find.  Thus  far  she  had  had  no  evidence 
of  a  woman  upon  the  ranch.  She  knew  the  sort  of 
housekeeper  her  father  had  demonstrated  himself 
upon  occasions  when  she  had  been  away  visiting;  she 
fully  counted  upon  seeing  the  traces  of  a  man's  hand 
here.  But  she  was  delightfully  surprised.  There 
was  a  big,  old-fashioned  walnut  bed  neatly  made, 
covered  in  smooth  whiteness  by  an  ironed  spread. 
There  was  a  washstand  with  white  pitcher  like  a 
ptarmigan  in  the  white  nest  of  a  bowl,  several  towels 
with  red  bands  towards  their  ends  flanking  it.  There 
was  a  little  rocking-chair,  a  table  with  some  books. 
The  window,  because  of  the  thickness  of  the  wall, 
offered  an  inviting  seat  whence  one  could  look  into 
the  tangle  of  roses  of  the  patio. 

"  It  is  like  a  dream,"  cried  Helen.  "  A  dream 
come  true." 

She  glanced  into  her  father's  room.  It  was  like 
hers  in  its  neatness  and  appointments  but  did  not 
have  her  charming  outlook.  She  was  turning  again 
into  her  own  room  when  she  heard  Howard's  voice 
outside. 

"  Angela,"  he  was  calling,  "  I  have  brought  home 
friends.  You  will  see  that  they  have  everything. 
There  is  a  young  lady.  I  am  going  to  the  stable." 

She  heard  Angela's  mumbled  answer.  So  there 
was,  after  all,  at  least  one  woman  at  the  ranch. 
Helen  awaited  her  expectantly,  wondering  who  and 
what  she  might  be.  Then  through  her  window  she 
saw  Angela  come  shuffling  into  the  patio.  She  was 


In  Desert  Valley 

an  old  woman,  Mexican  or  Indian,  her  hair  grey 
and  black  in  streaks,  her  body  bent  over  her  thump 
ing  stick  and  wrapped  in  a  heavy  shawl.  Never 
had  Helen  seen  such  night-black,  fathomless,  in 
scrutable  eyes;  never  had  she  looked  upon  a  face  so 
creased  and  lined  or  skin  so  like  dry,  wrinkled 
parchment. 

Angela  pounded  across  the  floor  looking  like  a 
witch  with  her  great  stick,  and  waved  a  bony  hand 
to  indicate  the  bathroom.  Catching  her  first  glimpse 
of  Longstreet,  who  came  to  his  daughter's  door,  she 
demanded: 

1  Your  papa?" 

"  Yes,"  Helen  answered  her. 

"You  friens  Sefior  Alan?"  And  when  Helen, 
hesitating  briefly,  said  "  Yes,"  Angela  asked:  "  You 
come  from  Santa  Rita,  no? " 

"  No,"  said  Helen.  "  From  San  Juan  and  be 
yond." 

"  You  come  far,"  mumbled  Angela.  She  scru 
tinized  the  girl  keenly.  Then  abruptly,  "  Sefior 
Alan  got  muchos  amlgos  today.  Senor  Juan  Carr 
comes;  El  Joven  with  him." 

Helen  asked  politely  who  these  two  were,  Juan 
Carr  and  El  Joven.  But  the  old  woman  merely 
shook  her  head  and  relapsed  into  silence,  frankly 
studying  her.  The  girl  was  glad  of  the  interruption 
when  Howard  rapped  at  the  door.  His  arms  were 
full  of  bundles. 

"  I've  brought  everything  I  could  find  that  looked 
like  your  and  your  father's  personal  traps,"  he  in 
formed  her  as  he  came  in  and  put  the  things  down 
on  the  floor.  "  I  looked  in  at  the  kitchen  and  figure 

43 


Desert  Valley 

it  out  we've  got  about  twenty  or  thirty  minutes 
before  dinner.  Come  on,  Angela;  give  Miss  Long- 
street  a  chance  to  get  ready." 

Angela  transferred  her  scrutiny  to  him;  Howard 
laughed  at  her  good-humoredly,  laid  his  hand  gently 
on  her  shrunken  shoulder  and  side  by  side  they 
went  out. 

Helen  went  singing  into  her  bath,  her  weary  body 
rested  by  the  thought  of  coolness  and  cleanliness  and 
a  change  of  clothing.  Little  enough  did  she  have 
in  the  way  of  clothing,  especially  for  an  evening 
when  she  was  to  meet  still  other  strangers.  But 
certain  feminine  trinkets  had  come  with  her  journey 
ing  across  the  desert,  and  a  freshly  laundered  wash 
dress  and  a  bit  of  bright  ribbon  work  wonders. 
When  she  heard  voices  in  the  patio,  that  of  Alan 
Howard  and  of  another  man,  this  a  sonorous  bass, 
she  was  ready.  She  went  to  her  father's  door; 
Longstreet  was  in  the  final  stages  of  his  own  toilet- 
making,  his  face  red  and  shiny  from  his  towelling, 
his  sparse  hair  on  end,  his  whole  being  in  that  con 
dition  of  bewildering  untidiness  which  comes  just 
before  the  ultimate  desired  orderliness  quite  as  the 
thick  darkness  before  the  dawn.  In  this  case  the 
rose  fingers  of  Aurora  were  Helen's  own,  patting, 
pulling  and  readjusting.  Within  three  minutes  she 
slipped  her  hand  through  the  arm  of  a  quiet, 
scholarly-looking  gentleman  and  together  they 
paced  sedately  into  the  patio. 

Howard  jumped  up  from  a  bench  and  dragged 
forward  his  friend  John  Carr,  introducing  him  to 
his  new  friends.  And  in  employing  the  word  friend 
and  repeating  it,  he  spoke  it  as  though  he  meant  it. 

44 


In  Desert  Valley 

Here  was  a  characteristic  of  the  man;  he  was  ready 
from  dawn  until  dark  to  put  out  his  big  square 
hand  to  the  world  and  bring  the  world  home  to 
his  home  for  supper  and  bed  and  all  that  both 
connote. 

But  Helen's  interest,  at  least  for  the  flitting  mo 
ment,  was  less  for  him  than  for  his  friend;  Howard 
she  had  known  since  dawn,  hence  hers  had  been 
ample  time  to  assign  him  his  proper  place  in  her 
human  catalogue.  Now  she  turned  her  level  eyes 
upon  the  new  man.  Immediately  she  knew  that  if 
Alan  Howard  were  an  interesting  type,  then  no  less 
so,  though  in  his  own  way,  was  John  Carr.  A 
bigger  man,  though  not  so  tall;  an  older  man  by 
something  like  half  a  dozen  years,  but  still  young 
in  the  eyes  and  about  the  clean-shaven  mouth;  a  man 
with  clear,  unwinking  bluish-grey  eyes  and  a  fine 
head  carried  erect  upon  a  massive  brown  throat. 
Carr  was  dressed  well  in  a  loose  serge  suit;  he  wore 
high-topped  tan  boots;  his  soft  shirt  was  of  good 
silk;  his  personality  exuded  both  means  and  im 
portance.  He  glanced  at  Longstreet  and  looked 
twice  or  three  times  as  long  at  Longstreet' s  daugh 
ter.  Helen  was  quite  used  to  that  and  it  was  for 
no  particular  reason  that  she  felt  her  color  heighten 
a  little.  She  slipped  her  hand  through  her  father's 
arm  again  and  they  went  into  supper.  Howard, 
having  indicated  the  way,  clapped  Carr  upon  the 
thick  shoulders  and  the  two  friends  brought  up  the 
rear. 

Helen  was  still  wondering  where  was  the  second 
guest;  Angela  had  distinctly  mentioned  Juan  Carr 
and  another  she  termed  El  Joven.  Yet  as  they 

45 


Desert  Valley 

passed  from  the  patio  into  the  big  cool  dining-room 
with  its  white  cloth  and  plain  service  and  stiff  chairs, 
she  saw  no  one  here.  Nor  did  she  find  any  answer 
in  the  number  of  places  set,  but  rather  a  confused 
wonder;  the  table  was  the  length  of  the  long  room," 
and,  at  least  in  so  far  as  number  of  plates  went, 
suggested  a  banquet. 

Howard  drew  out  chairs  at  one  end  of  the  table 
so  that  the  four  sat  together. 

14  The  boys  will  be  rolling  in  for  supper  in  half 
an  hour,"  he  explained.  u  But  you  folks  are  hungry 
and  will  want  to  get  to  bed  early  so  we  are  not 
waiting  for  them." 

The  "  boys  "  were,  supposedly,  the  men  he  had 
working  for  him;  there  must  be  close  to  a  score  of 
them.  And  they  all  ate  at  one  table,  master  and 
men  and  guests  when  he  had  them. 

"Who  is  El  Joven?"  asked  Helen. 

Howard  looked  puzzled;  then  his  face  cleared. 

"  Angela  told  you  El  Joven  was  here,  too  ?  "  And 
to  Carr:  u  He  came  with  you,  John?  " 

Carr  nodded.    Howard  then  answered  Helen. 

"  That's  Angela's  pet  name  for  him ;  it  means  The 
Youngster.  It  is  Barbee,  Yellow  Barbee  the  boys 
call  him.  He's  one  of  John's  men.  They  say  he's 
a  regular  devil-of-a-fellow  with  the  ladies,  Miss 
Helen.  Look  out  he  doesn't  break  your  heart." 

Angela  peered  in  from  the  kitchen  and  withdrew. 
They  heard  her  guttural  utterance,  and  thereafter 
a  young  Indian  boy,  black  of  eyes,  slick  of  plastered 
hair  and  snow-white  of  apron,  came  in  bringing  the 
soup.  Howard  nodded  at  him,  saying  a  pleasant 
"  Que  hay,  Juanitof  "  The  boy  uncovered  the  rare 

46 


In  Desert  Valley 

whiteness  of  his  splendid  teeth  in  a  quick  smile.  He 
began  placing  the  soup.  Helen  looked  at  him;  he 
blushed  and  withdrew  hastily  to  the  kitchen. 

Throughout  the  meal  the  four  talked  uncon- 
strainedly;  it  was  as  though  they  had  known  one 
another  for  a  dozen  years  and  intimately.  Long- 
street,  having  pushed  aside  his  soup  plate,  engaged 
his  host  in  an  ardent  discussion  of  the  undeveloped 
possibilities  of  the  Last  Ridge  country;  true,  he  had 
never  set  foot  upon  it,  but  he  knew  the  last  word 
of  this  land's  formation  and  geological  construc 
tion,  its  life  history  as  it  were.  All  of  his  life,  he 
admitted  freely,  he  had  been  a  man  of  scholarship 
and  theory;  the  simplest  thing  imaginable,  he  held 
blandly,  was  the  demonstration  of  the  correctness 
of  his  theories.  Meantime  Helen  talked  brightly 
with  John  Carr  and  listened  to  Carr's  voice. 

And  a  voice  well  worth  listening  to  it  was.  Its 
depth  was  at  once  remarkable  and  pleasing.  At 
first  one  hearkened  to  the  music  of  the  rich  tone 
itself  rather  than  to  the  man's  words,  just  as  one 
may  thrill  to  the  profound  cadences  of  a  deep  voice 
singing  without  heeding  the  words  of  the  song.  But 
presently  she  found  herself  giving  her  rapt  attention 
to  Carr's  remarks.  Here  again  was  one  of  her 
own  class,  a  man  of  quiet  assurance  and  culture  and 
distinction;  he  knew  Boston  and  he  knew  the  desert. 
For  the  first  time  since  her  father  had  dragged  her 
across  the  continent  on  his  hopelessly  mad  escapade, 
Helen  felt  that  after  all  the  East  was  not  entirely 
remote  from  the  West.  Men  like  Howard  and  his 
friend  John  Carr,  types  she  had  never  looked  to 
find  here,  linked  East  and  West. 

47 


Desert  Valley 

Juanito,  with  lowered,  bashful  eyes,  brought 
coffee,  ripe  olives  from  the  can,  potato  salad,  and 
thick,  hot  steaks.  Soon  thereafter  the  boys  began  to 
straggle  in.  Helen  heard  them  at  the  gate,  noisy 
and  eager;  for  them  the  supper  hour  was  diurnally 
a  time  of  a  joyous  lift  of  spirit.  They  clattered 
along  the  porch  like  a  crowd  of  schoolboys  just 
dismissed:  they  washed  outside  by  the  kitchen  door 
with  much  splashing;  they  plastered  their  hair  with 
the  common  combs  and  brushes  and  entered  the 
shortest  way,  by  the  kitchen.  They  called  to  each 
other  back  and  forth;  there  was  the  sound  of  a 
tremendous  clap  as  some  big  open  hand  fell  re 
soundingly  upon  some  tempting  back  and  a  roar 
from  the  stricken  and  a  gale  of  booming  laughter 
from  the  smiter  and  the  scuffle  of  boots  and  the 
crashing  of  two  big  bodies  falling.  Then  they  came 
trooping  in  until  fifteen  or  twenty  had  entered. 

One  by  one  Howard  introduced  them.  Plainly 
none  of  them  knew  of  Helen's  presence;  all  of  their 
eyes  showed  that.  Among  them  were  some  few 
who  grew  abashed;  for  the  most  part  they  ducked 
their  heads  in  acknowledgment  and  said  stiffly, 
"  Pleased  to  meet  you,"  in  wooden  manner  to  both 
Longstreet  and  his  daughter.  But  their  noisiness 
departed  from  them  and  they  sat  down  and  ate  in 
businesslike  style. 

Never  had  Helen  sat  down  with  so  rough  a 
crowd.  They  were  in  shirt  sleeves;  some  wore 
leathern  wrist  guards;  their  vests  were  open,  their 
shirts  dingy,  they  were  unshaven  and  their  hair 
grew  long  and  ragged;  they  brought  with  them  a 
smell  of  horses.  There  was  one  man  among  them 


In  Desert  Valley 

who  must  have  been  sixty  at  the  least,  a  wiry, 
stooped,  white-haired,  white-mustached  Mexican. 
There  were  boys  between  seventeen  and  nineteen. 
There  were  Americans;  at  least  one  Swede;  a 
Scotchman ;  several  who  might  have  been  any  sort  of 
mixture  of  southern  bloods.  And  among  them  all 
Helen  knew  at  once,  upon  the  instant  that  he  swag 
gered  in  El  Joven,  Yellow  Barbee. 

The  two  names  fitted  him  as  his  two  gloves  may 
fit  a  man's  hands;  among  the  young  he  was  The 
Youngster  as  among  blonds  he  was  Yellow  Barbee. 
His  dress  was  extravagantly  youthful;  his  boots 
bore  the  tallest  heels,  he  was  full-panoplied  as  to 
ornate  wristbands  and  belt  and  chaps  as  though 
in  full  holiday  attire;  one  might  wager  on  the  fact 
of  his  hat  on  a  nail  outside  being  the  tallest 
crowned,  the  widest  brimmed.  His  face  was  like 
a  girl's  for  its  smoothness  and  its  prettiness;  his 
eyes  were  like  blue  flowers  of  sweet  innocence;  on 
his  forehead  his  hair  was  a  cluster  of  little  yellow 
ringlets.  And  yet  he  managed  full  well  to  convey 
the  impression  that  he  was  less  innocent  than  inso 
lent;  a  somewhat  true  impression,  for  from  high 
heels  to  finger  tips  he  was  a  downright,  simon-pure 
rascal. 

Yellow  Barbee's  eyes  fairly  invaded  Helen's  as 
he  jerked  her  his  bow.  They  were  two  youngsters 
and  in  at  least  and  perhaps  in  at  most  one  matter 
they  were  alike :  she  prided  herself  that  she  "  knew  " 
men,  and  to  Barbee  all  women  were  an  open,  oft- 
read  book. 

Plainly  Barbee  was  something  of  a  favorite  here; 
further,  being  a  visitor,  he  was  potentially  of  in- 

49 


Desert  Valley 

terest  to  the  men  who  had  not  been  o#  the  ranch 
for  matters  of  weeks  and  months.  When  Alan 
Howard  and  the  professor  picked  up  their  conver 
sation  and  again  Helen  found  herself  monopolized 
by  John  Carr,  from  here  and  there  about  the  table 
came  pointed  remarks  to  Yellow  Barbee.  Helen, 
though  she  listened  to  Carr  and  was  never  uncon 
scious  of  her  father  and  Howard,  understood  after 
the  strange  fashion  of  women  all  that  was  being 
said  about  her.  Early  she  gathered  that  there  was 
somewhere  in  the  world  a  dashing  young  woman 
styled  the  "Widow."  Further  she  had  the  quick 
eyes  to  see  that  Barbee  blushed  when  an  old  cattle 
man  with  a  roguish  eye  cleared  his  throat  and  made 
aloud  some  remark  about  Mrs.  Murray.  Yes; 
Barbee  the  insolent,  the  swaggering,  the  worldly- 
wise  and  conceited  Barbee,  actually  blushed. 

Though  the  hour  was  late  it  was  not  yet  dark 
when  the  meal  was  done.  Somehow  Howard  was 
at  Helen's  side  when  they  went  to  the  living-room 
and  out  to  the  front  porch;  Carr  started  with  them, 
hesitated  and  held  back,  finally  stepping  over  for  a 
word  with  an  old  Mexican.  Helen  noted  that 
Barbee  had  moved  around  the  table  and  was  talking 
with  her  father.  As  she  and  Howard  found  chairs 
on  the  porch,  Longstreet  and  Barbee  passed  them 
and  went  out,  talking  together. 


CHAPTER  V 
THE  GOOD  OLD  SPORT 

THE  Longstreets  remained  several  days  upon 
Desert  Valley  Ranch,  as  the  wide  holding  had 
been  known  for  half  a  century.  Also  John  Carr 
and  his  young  retainer,  Yellow  Barbee,  prolonged 
their  stay.  It  appeared  that  Carr  had  come  over 
from  some  vague  place  still  further  toward  the 
east,  upon  some  matter  of  business  connected  with 
the  sale  of  this  broad  acreage ;  Carr  had  owned  the 
outfit  and  managed  it  personally  for  a  dozen  years 
and  now  was  selling  to  Alan  Howard.  It  further 
devolved  that  Barbee  "had  long  been  one  of  Carr's 
best  horsemen,  hence  a  favorite  of  Carr,  who  loved 
good  horses,  and  that  he  had  accompanied  his  em 
ployer  merely  to  help  drive  over  to  the  ranch  a 
small  herd  of  colts  which  had  been  included  in  the 
sale  but  had  not  until  now  been  delivered.  Carr  was 
a  great  deal  with  Howard,  and  Howard  managed 
to  see  a  great  deal  of  the  Longstreets;  as  for 
Barbee,  Helen  met  his  insolent  young  eyes  only  at 
mealtimes. 

"  My  business  is  over,"  Carr  confessed  to  Helen 
in  the  patio  the  next  morning.  "  There's  no  red 
tape  and  legal  nonsense  between  Al  and  me.  To 
sell  a  ranch  like  this,  when  you  know  the  other 
chap,  is  like  selling  a  horse.  But,"  and  his  eyes 
roved  from  his  cigar  to  a  glimpse  through  an  open 

51 


Desert  Valley 

door  of  wide  rolling  meadows  and  grazing  stock, 
"  I  guess  I'm  sort  of  homesick  for  it.  If  it  was  to 
do  over  I  don't  know  that  I'd  sell  it  this  morning." 

Helen  had  rested  well  last  night;  this  morning 
she  had  thrilled  anew  to  the  world  about  her.  She 
thought  that  she  had  never  seen  such  a  sunrise ;  the 
day  appeared  almost  to  come  leaping  and  shouting 
up  out  of  the  desert;  the  air  of  the  morning,  before 
the  heat  came,  was  nothing  less  than  glorious.  Her 
eyes  were  bright;  there  was  the  flush  of  joyousness 
in  her  cheeks. 

"  How  a  man  could  own  this,"  she  said  slowly, 
"  and  then  could  sell  it — "  She  shook  her  head 
and  looked  at  him  half  wonderingly.  "  I  don't  see 
how  you  could  do  it." 

"  You  feel  that  way  about  it,  too?  "  He  brought 
his  eyes  back  soberly  to  his  cigar. 

Howard,  whose  swinging  stride  Helen  had 
learned  to  know  already,  came  out  from  the  living- 
room,  hat  in  hand,  carrying  a  pair  of  spurs  he  had 
been  tinkering  with. 

"What  are  you  talking  about?"  he  laughed. 
"Somebody  dead?" 

"  Miss  Longstreet  was  saying,"  Carr  said  quietly, 
his  eyes  still  grave,  "  that  she  couldn't  understand 
a  man  selling  an  outfit  like  this,  once  he  had  called 
it  his  own." 

"  Good  for  you,  Miss  Helen,"  cried  Howard 
heartily.  "  I  am  with  you  on  that.  John,  there, 
must  have  been  out  of  his  senses  when  he  let  me 
talk  him  out  of  Desert  Valley." 

"  I  don't  know  but  that  I  was,"  said  Carr. 

Howard  looked  at  him  swiftly,  and  swiftly  the 
52 


The  Good  Old  Sport 

light  in  his  eyes  altered.  For  Carr  had  spoken 
thoughtfully  and  soberly  and  there  was  no  hint  of 
jest  in  the  man. 

"  You  don't  mean,  John,"  said  Alan  a  trifle  un 
certainly,  "  that  you  are  sorry  you  let  go?  That 
you  are  not  satisfied — " 

Carr  appeared  to  be  considering  the  matter  as 
though  it  were  enwrapped  in  his  cigar.  He  took 
ample  time  in  replying,  so  much  time,  in  fact,  that 
Helen  found  herself  growing  impatient  for  his 
reply. 

"  Suppose  I  were  sorry?  "  he  said  finally.  "  Sup 
pose  I  were  not  satisfied?  Then  what?  The  deal 
is  made  and  a  bargain,  old  timer,  is  a  bargain." 

Now  it  was  Howard's  turn  for  silence  and  sober 
eyes.  He  looked  intently  into  his  friend's  face ;  then 
with  a  lingering  affection  across  his  broad  lands. 

"  Not  between  friends,"  he  said.  "  Not  between 
friends  like  you  and  me,  John.  I've  hardly  got 
my  hooks  into  it;  you  had  it  long  enough  for  it  to 
get  to  be  a  part  of  you.  If  you  made  a  mistake 
in  selling,  if  you  know  it  now — "  He  shrugged 
and  smiled.  "  Why,  of  course  it  doesn't  mean  as 
much  to  me  as  to  you  and  anyway  it's  yours  until 
I  get  all  my  payments  made  and  if  you  say  the 
word—" 

''Well?"  asked  Carr  steadily. 

"  Why,"  cried  Howard,  "  we'll  frame  a  new 
deal  this  very  minute  and  you  can  take  it  over 
again !  " 

'You'd  do  that  for  me,  Al?" 

'You're  damned  well  right,  I  would!"  cried 
Howard  heartily.  And  Helen  understood  that  for 

53 


Desert  Valley 

the  moment  at  least  he  had  forgotten  that  she  was 
present. 

A  slow  smile  came  into  Carr's  eyes. 

"  That's  square  shooting,  Long  Boy,"  he  spoke 
more  impetuously  than  Helen  had  thought  the  man 
could.  "  But  I  never  went  back  on  a  play  yet,  did 
I?  I'm  just  sort  of  homesick  for  the  old  place, 
that's  all.  Forget  it."  He  slapped  Howard  upon 
the  shoulder,  the  two  friends'  eyes  met  for  a  mo 
ment  of  utter  understanding  and  he  went  on  down 
to  the  stable,  calling  back,  "  I'm  going  to  take  the 
best  horse  you've  got — that  would  be  Bel  and  no 
other — and  ride.  So  long." 

"  So  long,"  answered  Howard. 

Carr  gone  from  sight,  Howard  stood  musing  a 
moment,  unconscious  of  Helen's  wondering  eyes 
upon  him.  Then  he  turned  to  her  and  began  speak 
ing  of  his  friend;  big  and  generous  and  manly,  was 
Carr;  a  man  to  tie  to  and,  though  he  did  not  say 
it  in  so  many  words,  a  man  to  die  for.  He  ex 
plained  how  Carr  had  taken  the  old  Diaz  ranch 
that  had  been  Spanish  and  then  Mexican  in  its  time 
and  had  made  it  over  into  what  it  was,  the  greatest 
stock  run  north  of  the  Rio  Grande  and  west  of  the 
Mississippi.  Helen's  interest  was  ready  and  sym 
pathetic  and  Howard  passed  from  one  point  to 
another  until  he  had  sketched  the  way  in  which  the 
ranch  had  been  sold  to  him.  And  the  girl,  though 
she  knew  little  enough  about  business  methods,  was 
startled  to  learn  how  these  two  men  trusted  each 
other.  She  recalled  what  Carr  had  said;  between 
him  and  Howard  a  deal  involving  many  thousands 
of  dollars  was  as  simple  a  matter  as  the  sale  of  a 

54 


The  Good  Old  Sport 

horse.  The  two,  riding  together,  had  in  a  few 
words  agreed  upon  price  and  terms.  They  had  re 
turned  to  the  house  and  Howard  had  written  a  check 
for  seven  thousand  dollars  as  first  payment;  all  of 
his  ready  cash,  he  admitted  freely,  saving  what  he 
must  keep  on  hand  for  ranch  manipulation.  There 
was  no  deed  given,  no  deed  of  trust,  no  mortgage. 
It  was  understood  that  Howard  should  pay  certain 
sums  at  certain  specified  dates;  each  man  had  jotted 
down  his  memoranda  in  his  own  hand;  the  deal  was 
made. 

"  But,"  gasped  Helen,  "  if  anything  unforeseen 
should  happen?  If — if  he  should  die?  Or  you? 
If—" 

"  In  any  case  there  would  be  one  of  us  left, 
wouldn't  there?"  he  countered  in  his  offhand  way. 
"  Unless  we  both  went  out,  and  then  what  differ 
ence?  He  has  no  one  to  look  out  for;  neither  have 
I.  Besides,"  he  laughed  carelessly,  "  John  and  1 
both  plan  on  being  on  the  job  a  good  fifty  years 
from  now. — Come  out  here  and  I'll  show  you  a 
real  horse." 

She  went  with  him  to  the  porch.  Carr  was  leav 
ing  the  stable,  riding  Bel.  Helen  knew  little  enough 
of  horseflesh  and  yet  she  understood  that  here  was 
an  animal  to  catch  anyone's  eye;  yes,  and  Carr,  sit 
ting  massive  and  stalwart  in  the  saddle,  was  a  man 
to  hold  any  woman's.  The  horse  was  a  big,  bright 
bay;  mane  and  tail  were  like  fine  gold;  the  sun 
winked  back  from  them  and  from  the  glorious  red 
dish  hide.  Carr  saw  them  and  waved  his  hat;  Bel 
danced  sideways  and  whirled  and  for  an  instant 
stood  upon  his  rear  legs,  his  thin,  aristocratic  fore- 

55 


Desert  Valley 

legs  flaying  the  air.  Then  came  Carr's  deep  bass 
laugh;  the  polished  hoofs  struck  the  ground  and  they 
were  off,  flashing  away  across  the  meadowlands. 

"  Some  day,"  said  Helen,  her  eyes  sparkling,  "  I 
want  to  ride  a  horse  like  that !  "  She  turned  to  him 
asking  eagerly,  "  Could  I  learn?" 

"  If  with  all  my  heart  I  wanted  to  be  a  first-rate 
Philadelphia  lawyer  or  a  third-rate  San  Francisco 
politician,"  he  announced  with  that  sweeping  posi- 
tiveness  which  was  one  of  his  characteristics,  "  I'd 
consider  the  job  done  to  start  with !  All  you've  got 
to  do  is  to  want  a  thing,  want  it  hard,  and  it's  as 
good  as  yours.  Now,  to  begin  with,  you  love  a 
horse.  The  rest  is  easy." 

Helen  saw  her  father,  accompanied  by  young 
Barbee,  emerge  from  behind  the  stable,  and  sighed. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  know  what  failure  means," 
she  said. 

"  There  isn't  any  such  bird,"  he  laughed  at  her. 
"Not  really." 

"  Then,"  her  eyes  still  upon  the  pair  talking  to 
gether  by  the  stable  door,  "  dear  old  dad  should 
find  his  gold  mine.  He  wants  it  with  all  his  heart, 
Heaven  knows.  And  he  has  the  faith  that  is  sup 
posed  to  move  mountains." 

Howard  scratched  his  head.  Within  the  few 
hours  he  had  come  to  like  the  old  professor,  for 
Longstreet,  though  academic,  was  a  straight-from- 
the-shoulder  type  of  man,  one  of  no  subterfuges. 
And  yet  he  did  not  greatly  inspire  confidence;  he 
was  not  the  type  that  breathes  efficiency. 

"  Tell  me  about  him,"  Howard  urged.  "  What 
makes  him  so  dead  certain  he  can  nail  his  Golconda 

56 


The  Good  Old  Sport 

out  here  ?  I  take  it  he  has  never  been  out  this  way 
before,  and  that  he  doesn't  know  a  whole  lot  of  our 
part  of  the  country." 

Confidence  inspires  confidence.  Howard  had 
hardly  finished  sketching  for  her  his  own  plans  and 
hopes;  he  had  gone  succinctly  and  openly  into  detail 
concerning  his  deal  with  John  Carr.  Now  Helen, 
glad  to  talk  with  someone,  answered  in  kind. 

"  The  University  elected  a  young  president,  a 
New  Broom,"  she  said  bitterly.  "  He  is  a  man 
of  more  ambition  than  brains.  His  slogan  is 
'  Young  Men.'  He  ousted  father  together  with 
a  dozen  other  men  of  his  age.  I  thought  father's 
heart  would  be  broken;  he  had  devoted  all  of  the 
years  of  his  life,  all  of  his  best  work,  to  his  Uni 
versity.  But  instead  he  was  simply  enraged!  Can 
you  imagine  him  in  a  perfectly  towering  rage?" 

Howard  grinned.  "  Go  ahead,"  he  chuckled. 
"  He's  a  good  old  sport  and  I  like  him." 

'  Well,"  said  Helen  without  meeting  his  smile, 
"  father  and  I  went  into  business  session  right  away. 
We  had  never  had  much  money;  father  had  never 
cared  for  wealth  measured  in  money;  had  always 
been  richly  content  with  his  professor's  salary;  had 
never  saved  or  asked  me  to  save.  When  the  thing 
happened,  all  we  had  in  the  world  was  a  little  over 
seven  hundred  dollars.  I  was  right  away  for  econo 
mizing,  for  managing,  for  turning  to  some  other 
position.  But  father,  I  tell  you,  was  in  a  perfect 
rage.  When  I  mentioned  finances  to  him  he  got  up 
and  shouted.  *  Money!  '  he  yelled  at  me.  *  What's 
money?  Who  wants  money?  It's  a  fool's  game 
to  get  money;  anybody  can  do  it.'  When  he  saw 

57 


Desert  Valley 

that  I  doubted  he  told  me  to  pack  up  that  very  day 
and  he'd  show  me;  he'd  show  the  world.  The  new 
university  man  named  him  an  old  fogy,  did  he? 
He'd  show  him.  Didn't  he  know  more  than  any 
other  man  living  about  geology?  About  the  making 
of  the  earth  and  the  minerals  of  the  earth?  Was 
it  any  trick  to  find  gold?  Not  in  the  dribbles,  but 
such  a  mine  as  never  a  miner  drove  a  pick  into 
yet?" 

She  sighed  again  and  grew  silent.  Howard,  toy 
ing  idly  with  the  spurs  in  his  hands,  could  at  the 
moment  find  nothing  to  say. 

"  Dear  old  pops,"  she  said  more  softly  in  a 
moment.  "  I  am  afraid  that  his  heart-breaking 
time  is  coming  now.  When  he  learns  that  it  isn't 
so  easy  to  find  gold,  after  all." 

"  No,"  said  Howard  slowly.  "  No.  It  doesn't 
break  a  man's  heart.  For  he  is  always  sure  that 
it  is  coming  the  next  day  and  the  next  and  the  next. 
I've  known  them  to  go  on  that  way  until  they  died 
and  then  know  in  their  hearts  that  they'd  make  a 
strike  the  next  day — if  only  the  Lord  would  spare 
them  twenty-four  hours  more." 

"  I  wanted  father  to  bank  our  money,"  went  on 
Helen,  her  eyes  darkening.  "  I  wanted  to  go  to 
work,  to  earn  something.  I  can  teach.  But  he 
wouldn't  hear  of  it.  He  said — he  said  that  if  the 
time  had  come  when  he  couldn't  support  his  own 
daughter  it  was  high  time  he  was  dead." 

Howard  nodded  his  understanding.  "  He's,  a 
good  sport,  I  tell  you,"  he  maintained  warmly. 
"  And  1  like  him.  Who  knows  but  that  he  may 
make  his  ten-strike  here  after  all?  Or,"  as  he 

58 


The  Good  Old  Sport 

marked  the  droop  of  the  girl's  mouth  and  under 
stood  how  she  must  be  thinking  of  how  little  was 
left  of  their  pittance,  he  added  briskly,  "  this  is  a 
better  place  than  the  East  any  day;  there  are  more 
chances.  If  a  man  is  the  right  sort  there  is  always 
a  chance  for  him.  If  you  want  to  teach —  Well, 
weVe  got  schools  out  here,  haven't  we?" 

Helen's  eyes  rounded  at  him.  "  Have  you? 
Where?" 

"  And  bully  good  schools,"  he  insisted.  "  There's 
the  Big  Springs  school  not  over  ten  miles  off,  over 
that  way.  You  could  have  a  job  there  tomorrow, 
if  you  said  the  word." 

Her  eyes  brightened.  "  There  is  a  vacancy, 
then?" 

"  Well,"  he  admitted,  "  I'm  not  so  sure  about 
that.  There's  a  teacher  there,  I  believe.  But,"  and 
now  it  was  his  eyes  that  brightened,  "  it  could  be 
fixed  somehow.  Just  leave  it  to  John  and  me." 

She  laughed  at  him  and  all  her  gaiety  came  surg 
ing  back. 

"  Here  I've  been  drawing  a  face  a  mile  long," 
she  cried  lightly,  u  when  everything's  all  right  as 
far  as  I  can  see  in  all  directions.  I  am  going  down 
to  see  what  father  is  up  to;  he  and  Mr.  Barbee 
look  to  me  like  a  couple  of  youngsters  plotting 
trouble." 

A  look  of  understanding  flashed  between  Yellow 
Barbee  and  Professor  Longstreet  as  the  two  came 
down  from  the  ranch  house.  Thereafter  Longstreet 
beamed  upon  his  daughter  while  Yellow  Barbee,  his 
hat  far  back  upon  the  blond  cluster  of  curls,  turned 

59 


Desert  Valley 

his  insolent  eyes  upon  her.  Helen,  deeming  him 
overbold,  sought  to  "  squelch "  him  with  a  look. 
Instead  she  saw  both  mirth  and  admiration  shining 
in  the  baby-blue  eyes.  She  turned  her  back  upon 
El  Joven,  who  retaliated  by  turning  his  back  upon 
her  and  swaggering  away  into  the  stable,  whistling 
through  his  teeth  as  he  went.  Howard  went  with 
him  for  his  horse. 

"  Papa,"  said  Helen  after  the  stern  fashion  which 
in  time  comes  natural  to  the  girl  with  a  wayward 
father,  "  what  are  you  two  up  to?" 

"  My  darling,"  said  Longstreet  hurriedly,  "  what 
do  you  mean?  " 

"  I  mean  you  and  that  young  scamp.  He's  bad, 
papa;  bad  all  the  way  through.  And  you,  you  dear 
old  innocent—" 

Longstreet  glanced  hastily  over  his  shoulder  and 
then  frowned  at  her. 

"  You  mustn't  talk  that  way.  He  is  a  remarkably 
fine  young  fellow.  We  are  in  a  new  environment, 
you  and  I,  Helen.  We  are  in  Rome  and  must  learn 
something  of  the  Romans.  Now,  Mr.  Barbee — " 

"  Is  Roman  all  the  way  through !  "  sniffed 
Helen.  "  You  just  look  out  that  he  doesn't  lead 
you  into  mischief." 

In  the  stable  Howard  was  saddling  two  horses, 
meaning  to  invite  Helen  to  begin  her  serious  study 
now.  He,  too,  was  interested  in  the  odd  friendship 
which  seemed  to  be  growing  up  so  swiftly  between 
two  men  so  utterly  unlike.  He  turned  to  Barbee 
to  ask  a  question  and  saw  the  young  fellow  stoop 
and  sweep  up  something  that  had  fallen  into  the 

60 


The  Good  Old  Sport 

straw  underfoot.  Howard's  eyes  were  quick  and 
keen;  it  was  only  a  flash  but  he  recognized  a  ten  of 
spades.  He  turned  back  to  the  latigo  he  was  draw 
ing  tight.  But  before  they  left  the  stable  he  offered 
carelessly: 

"  What  do  you  think  of  the  professor,  Barbee  ?  " 

And  Barbee  answered  joyously: 

"  He's  a  reg'lar  ring-tailed  old  he-devil,  Al."  He 
winked  brightly.  "  One  of  these  days  him  and  me 
is  going  to  drift  down  to  Tres  Pinos.  And,  say, 
won't  the  town  know  about  us?" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  demanded  Howard 
sharply. 

Barbee  considered  him  a  thoughtful  moment. 
Then  he  shrugged. 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  he  said. 


61 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE  YOUTHFUL  HEART 

TO  both  Helen  and  her  father,  tarrying  at 
Desert  Valley  Ranch,  the  long  still  hot  days 
were  fraught  with  much  new  interest.  Life  was  new 
and  golden,  viewed  from  this  fresh  viewpoint. 
Helen  had  come  hitherward  from  her  city  haunts 
with  trepidation;  even  Longstreet,  serenely  opti 
mistic  regarding  the  ultimate  crown  of  success  to 
his  labor,  was  genuinely  delighted.  The  days 
passed  all  too  swiftly. 

As  can  in  no  way  be  held  reprehensible  in  one  of 
her  age  and  maidenly  beauty  and  charm,  Helen's 
interest  had  to  do  primarily  with  men,  two  men. 
They,  quite  as  should  be  in  this  land  of  novelty, 
were  unlike  the  men  she  had  known.  With  each 
passing  hour  Helen  came  to  see  this  more  clearly. 
She  was  a  bright  young  woman,  alert  and  with  at 
least  a  modicum  of  scientific  mental  attitude  inherited 
from  the  machinery  of  her  father's  brain.  Like  any 
other  healthy  young  animal  she  wanted  to  know 
whys  and  wherefores  and  the  like. 

The  evening  of  their  first  day,  alone  in  her  room 
for  an  hour  before  bed,  she  settled  for  herself  the 
first  difference  between  these  men  of  the  desert 
fringes  and  the  men  she  had  known  at  home.  To 
begin  with  she  reviewed  in  mind  her  old  acquaint 
ances:  there  were  a  half-dozen  professors,  in- 

62 


The  Youthful  Heart 

structors,  assistants  who  called  infrequently  on  her 
father  and  whom  she  had  come  to  know  with  a 
degree  of  familiarity.  The  youngest  of  them  had 
been  twenty  years  older  than  Helen  and,  whereas 
her  father  was  always  an  old  dear,  sometimes  a 
hopeless  and  helpless  old  dear,  they  were  simply  old 
fogies.  They  constituted,  however,  an  important 
department  in  her  male  friends;  the  rest  were  as 
easily  catalogued.  They  were  the  young  college 
men;  men  in  name  only,  boys  in  actuality.  They 
were  of  her  own  age  or  two  or  four  years  older  or 
a  year  younger.  They  danced  and  made  mysterious 
references  to  the  beer  they  had  wickedly  drunk; 
they  motored  in  their  fathers'  cars  and  played  tennis 
in  their  fathers'  flannels  when  they  fitted;  no  doubt 
they  were  men  in  the  making,  but  to  judge  them  as 
men  already  was  like  looking  prematurely  into  the 
oven  to  see  how  the  bread  was  doing;  they  were  still 
under-baked.  So  far  they  were  playing  with  the 
game  of  life;  Life,  herself,  had  not  yet  taken  them 
seriously,  had  not  reached  out  the  iron  hand  that 
eventually  would  seize  them  by  the  back  of  the  neck, 
the  slack  of  the  trousers,  and  pitch  them  out  into 
the  open  arena. 

Helen  was  considerably  pleased  with  the  result 
of  her  meditations:  her  father's  academic  friends 
had  held  back  behind  college  walls  and  thus  had 
never  come  out  into  the  scrimmage  that  makes  men; 
her  own  young  friends  had  not  yet  reached  the  time 
when  they  would  buckle  on  their  armor  and  mount 
and  take  lance  in  hand.  Alan  Howard  and  John 
Carr  were  men  who  for  a  number  of  years  had  done 
man's  work  out  in  the  open,  no  doubt  giving  and 

63 


Desert  Valley 

receiving  doughty  blows.  She  considered  Carr:  he 
had  taken  a  monster  outfit  like  Desert  Valley  and 
had  made  it  over,  in  his  own  image,  like  a  god  work 
ing.  There  were  thousands  of  acres,  she  had  no 
idea  how  many.  There  were  cattle  and  horses  and 
mules;  again  she  thought  of  them  only  vaguely  as 
countless.  There  were  many  men  obeying  his 
orders,  taking  his  daily  wage.  Carr  had  mastered 
a  big  job  and  the  job  had  made  a  masterly  man  of 
him.  Then  had  come  Alan  Howard  with  vision  and 
determination  and  courage.  He  had  expended 
almost  his  last  cent  for  a  first  payment  upon  the  huge 
property;  he  was  risking  all  that  he  had  gathered 
of  the  world's  goods,  he  was  out  in  the  open  waging 
his  battle  like  a  young  king  claiming  his  heritage. 
Helen  clothed  the  act  in  the  purple  and  gold  of 
romance  and  thrilled  at  her  own  picture. 

"  After  all,"  she  discovered,  "  there  are  different 
kinds  of  men  and  I  never  knew  men  like  these  two." 

Then,  when  she  thought  of  Yellow  Barbee,  she 
sniffed.  Barbee  was  about  her  own  age;  she  con 
sidered  him  a  mere  child  and  transparent. 

She  had  said  good-night  to  her  father,  but  now 
suddenly  in  a  mood  for  conversation  went  out  into 
the  hall  and  tiptoed  to  his  door.  When  there  came 
no  response  to  her  gentle  tapping  she  opened  the 
door  and  discovered  only  darkness  and  emptiness. 
She  was  mildly  surprised;  distinctly  she  had  heard 
him  go  into  his  room  and  close  his  door  and  she 
had  not  heard  him  go  out  again. 

There  are  men  who,  though  they  may  live  to  be 
a  hundred  years  old,  keep  always  the  fresh  heart 


The  Youthful  Heart 

of  twenty.  James  Edward  Longstreet  was  one  of 
them.  He  was  a  man  of  considerable  erudition;  he 
had  always  supposed  that  the  choice  had  lain  en 
tirely  with  him.  He  had  always  been  amply  content 
with  his  existence,  had  genially  considered  that  the 
whole  of  the  bright  stream  of  life,  gently  deflected, 
had  flowed  through  his  college  halls  and  under  his 
calm  eyes.  Now  his  youthful  soul  was  in  a  delight 
ful  turmoil;  adventures  had  come  to  him,  more  ad 
ventures  were  coming.  Men  like  Barbee  had  given 
him  the  stanch  hand  of  friendship;  they  had  wel 
comed  him  as  an  equal.  And  something  until  now 
untouched,  unguessed,  that  had  lived  on  in  his  boy's 
heart,  stirred  and  awoke  and  thrilled.  Tonight, 
with  a  vague  sense  of  guilt  which  made  the  escapade 
but  the  more  electric,  while  his  daughter  had  im 
agined  that  he  was  getting  himself  sedately  into  his 
long-tailed,  sedate  nightgown,  he  was  beaming 
warmly  upon  the  highly  entertained  group  of  ranch 
hands  down  in  the  men's  bunkhouse.  Whither,  by 
the  way,  he  had  been  led  by  Barbee. 

There  comes  now  and  then  to  such  an  isolation  as 
Desert  Valley  a*  boon  from  the  gods  in  the  guise  of 
a  tenderfoot.  But  never  tenderfoot,  agreed  the 
oldest  Mexican  with  the  youngest  Texan,  like  this 
one.  They  sat  lined  in  back-tilted  chairs  about  the 
four  walls  and  studied  him  with  eyes  that  were  at 
all  times  appreciative,  often  downright  grave.  His 
ignorance  was  astounding;  his  hunger  for  informa 
tion  amazing.  He  was  a  man  from  Mars  who 
knew  all  that  was  to  be  known  in  his  own  world 
but  brought  into  this  strange  planet  a  frank  and 
burning  curiosity.  Barbee's  chaps  delighted  him;  a 

6.5 


Desert  Valley 

hair  rope  awoke  in  his  soul  an  avaricious  hunger  for 
a  hair  rope  of  his  own;  commonplace  ranch  matters 
like  branding  and  marking  and  breeding  and  wean 
ing  and  breaking,  evoked  countless  eager  questions. 
For  so  academic  a  man,  the  strange  thing  about  him 
was  his  attitude  toward  these  day  laborers;  he  looked 
upon  them  as  brothers;  not  only  that,  but  as  older 
brothers.  He  forgot  his  own  wisdom  in  his  thirst 
to  partake  of  theirs.  He  gave  the  full  of  his  ad 
miration  to  a  man  whom  he  had  seen  that  day  cast 
a  wide  loop  of  rope  about  the  horns  of  a  running 
steer. 

He  was  making  discoveries  hand  over  fist;  perhaps 
therein  lay  a  sufficient  reason  why  the  man  of  science 
in  him  was  fascinated.  True,  those  discoveries 
which  he  made  were  new  only  to  him;  yet  one 
might  say  the  same  of  America  and  Columbus.  For 
one  thing,  it  dawned  on  him  that  here  was  a  new 
and  excellent  technical  vocabulary;  he  stored  away 
in  his  brain  strange  words  as  a  squirrel  sticks  nuts 
and  acorns  into  a  hole.  Hondo,  tapaderos,  bad 
hombre,  tecolote,  bronco,  maverick,  side-winder, — 
rapaciously  he  seized  upon  them  as  bits  of  the  argot 
of  fairyland.  He  watched  the  expert  roll  the  brown 
tube  of  a  cigarette  and  yearned  for  the  skill;  he 
observed  tricks  in  riding  and  there  was  within  him 
the  compelling  urge  to  ride  like  that;  not  a  trifle 
escaped  his  shark-eyes,  be  it  the  way  the  men  combed 
their  hair,  mounted  their  horses  or  dragged  their 
spurs.  Tonight  and  with  unhidden  elation  he  ac 
cepted  Barbee's  invitation  to  "  set  in  and  roll  the 
bones  "  with  them.  "  Roll  the  bones!  "  When  some 
day  he  went  back  home,  the  owner  of  the  "  greatest 

66 


The  Youthful  Heart 

little  mine  this  side  the  Rockies,"  he'd  work  that 
off  on  his  old  chum,  Professor  Anstruther.  He  drew 
up  his  chair  to  the  table,  piled  a  jumble  of  coins  in 
front  of  him  and  took  into  his  hands  the  enticing 
cubes. 

He  did  not  think  of  it  as  gambling;  he  had  never 
gambled,  had  never  wanted  to.  But  he  was  all  alive 
to  join  in  the  amusements  of  his  new  friends,  to  be 
like  them.  After  all,  he  was  putting  up  as  sorts 
of  markers  a  few  five-  and  ten-cent  pieces  with  an 
occasional  quarter-  or  half-dollar,  and  to  him  money 
had  never  had  much  significance.  The  game  was 
the  thing  and  he  found  in  it  from  the  first  a  keen 
mathematical  interest.  There  were  five  dice;  each 
die  with  its  six  surfaces  had  six  different  numbers. 
While  he  beamed  into  the  veiled  eyes  of  the  old 
Mexican  he  was  figuring  upon  the  various  combina 
tions  possible  and  the  likelihood,  the  theory  of 
chances,  of  a  six  or  an  ace  upon  the  second  throw. 
From  the  jump  the  game  fascinated  him;  it  is  to 
be  questioned,  however,  if  ever  before  a  man  knew 
just  the  sort  of  fascination  which  enthralled  him. 
No  matter  who  won  or  lost,  when  the  rolling  cubes 
behaved  in  conformity  with  the  mathematical  laws, 
he  fairly  sparkled.  And  in  the  end  he  lost  only  six 
or  seven  dollars  and  did  not  in  the  least  realize  that 
he  had  lost  a  cent.  When  at  last  he  left  to  go  to 
bed,  all  of  the  eyes  in  the  room  followed  him.  They 
were  puzzled  eyes. 

'  The  old  boy's  all  right,"  said  one  man.  It  was 
Tod  Barstow,  an  old  hand.  And  he  added,  nod 
ding,  "  He's  a  damn  good  loser." 

Barbee  chuckled  and  pocketed  his  small  winnings. 


Desert  Valley 

*  That's  what  I'm  playing  him  for,  Toddy,"  he 
admitted  with  his  cheerful  grin. 

In  the  end  the  Longstreets  went  from  Desert 
Valley  straight  on  to  the  nearest  town,  that  of  Big 
Run,  only  a  dozen  miles  still  east  of  the  ranch.  The 
suggestion  came  from  Longstreet  himself,  who  had 
had  a  picturesque  account  of  the  settlement  from 
Barbee. 

"  I  estimate,"  the  professor  announced  at  break 
fast,  "  that  we  shall  be  the  matter  of  two  or  three 
months  at  Last  Ridge.  What  comforts  we  have 
there  will  be  the  results  of  our  own  efforts.  Now, 
though  we  have  brought  with  us  certain  of  the  abso 
lute  necessities,  there  is  much  in  the  way  of  provi 
sion  and  sundries  that  we  should  have.  Mr. 
Howard  has  been  so  very  considerate  as  to  offer 
us  a  wagon  and  horses  and  even  a  driver.  1  think, 
my  dear,  that  we  would  do  well  to  drive  into  Big 
Run,  which  I  understand  is  a  progressive  community 
with  an  excellent  store.  We  can  get  what  we  re 
quire  there  and  the  next  day  return  to  the  Last 
Ridge." 

Only  approval  greeted  his  words.  Howard,  it 
appeared,  had  business  in  Big  Run  and  would  make 
the  trip  with  them;  Carr  judged  that  it  was  time 
for  him  to  be  clearing  out  and  his  way  led  through 
Big  Run.  So  they  hurried  through  breakfast  and 
started. 

Tod  Barstow  handled  the  reins  of  the  four  mules; 
beside  him  on  the  high,  rocking  seat,  sat  Longstreet. 
During  his  sojourn  on  the  ranch  he  had  acquired  a 
big  bright  red  bandana  handkerchief  which  now  was 
knotted  loosely  about  his  sun-reddened  throat;  the 

68 


The  Youthful  Heart 

former  crease  in  his  big  hat  had  given  place  to  a 
tall  peak;  he  wore  a  pair  of  leather  wrist-cuffs 
which  he  had  purchased  from  Barbee.  Barstow 
grunted  and  turned  the  grunt  into  a  shrill  yell  di 
rected  at  his  mules ;  they  knew  his  voice  and  jammed 
their  necks  deep  into  their  collars,  taking  the  road 
at  a  run.  Longstreet,  taken  unawares,  bounced  and 
came  dangerously  near  toppling  off  the  seat.  Then 
with  both  hands  he  clung  to  the  iron  guard-rod  at 
the  back  of  the  seat  and  took  his  joy  out  of  a  new 
mode  of  travel. 

Helen  had  elected  to  go  on  horseback.  Howard 
had  brought  out  for  her  a  pretty  little  mare,  coal- 
black  and  slender-limbed,  but  sufficiently  gentle. 
Barbee,  who  had  been  watching,  suddenly  set  his 
toe  in  his  own  stirrup  and  went  up  into  the  saddle, 
racing  on  to  overtake  and  pass  the  wagon.  Howard 
and  Carr  glanced  swiftly  at  each  other;  then  their 
eyes  went  to  the  girl  Howard  helped  her  to  mount 
and  reined  in  at  her  right,  Carr  dropped  into  place 
at  her  left,  and  so,  the  three  abreast,  they  followed 
Barbee. 

They  rode  slowly  and  now  Howard,  now  Carr, 
told  her  of  the  points  of  interest  along  the  trail. 
When  they  crossed  the  lower  end  of  the  valley  and 
came  to  the  top  of  the  gentle  slope  extending  along 
its  eastern  edge,  Helen  made  a  discovery.  All  these 
latter  days  she  had  thought  of  the  desert  as  behind 
her,  lying  all  to  the  westward.  Now  she  understood 
how  the  ranch  was  aptly  named  Desert  Valley;  it 
was  a  freak,  an  oasis,  a  fertile  valley  with  desert 
lands  to  east  as  well  as  west,  and  to  north  and  south. 
When  they  had  ridden  down  the  far  slope  of  the 

69 


Desert  Valley 

hills  they  were  once  more  upon  the  edges  of  the 
solitudes  of  sand  sweep  and  sand  ridge  and  cactus 
and  mesquite  and  utter  drought.  Every  step  their 
horses  took  carried  them  further  into  a  land  of  arid 
menace;  at  the  end  of  the  first  hour  it  was  difficult 
to  imagine  green,  watered  fields  only  a  handful  of 
miles  away. 

"  It's  just  the  water  that  makes  the  difference," 
Howard  told  her.  "  Isn't  it,  John  ?  "  Carr  nodded. 
14  If  a  man  could  get  water  to  put  on  this  land  that 
is  burning  our  horses'  fetlocks  off  right  now,  he'd 
have  all  the  crops  and  stock  range  he  wanted.  Why, 
the  bigger  part  of  Desert  Valley  was  like  this  before 
John  took  hold  of  it;  he  developed  the  water  and 
I've  gone  on  with  his  work,  and  look  what  we've 
got  now!  " 

"  That  makes  your  ranch  all  the  more  wonder 
ful!"  cried  Helen. 

Howard's  eyes  glowed;  she  noted  that  they  always 
did  when  he  spoke  thus  of  Desert  Valley  or  when 
she  bespoke  her  hearty  approval  of  his  choice. 
Something  prompted  her  to  turn  swiftly  to  Carr; 
his  head  was  down;  he  was  frowning  at  the  horn 
of  his  saddle ;  Helen,  not  devoid  of  either  intuition 
or  tact,  changed  the  conversation.  But  not  before 
she  noted  that  Howard,  too,  had  looked  toward  his 
friend. 

Big  Run  huddled  among  tall  cottonwoods  in  a 
shallow  hollow.  It  was  blessed  with  several  clear, 
pure  springs,  its  only  blessing.  It  was  self-sufficient, 
impudent.  About  it  on  all  sides  was  the  sweep  of 
grey  desert;  in  the  shade  of  its  cottonwoods,  along 

70 


The  Youthful  Heart 

its  thicket  of  willows,  was  a  modicum  of  greenness 
and  coolness;  its  ugly  houses  like  toads  squatting  in 
the  shade  had  an  air  of  jeering  at  the  wastes  of  sand 
and  scrub.  The  place  was  old  in  years  and  iniquity. 
The  amazing  thing  connected  with  it  was  that  its 
water  could  remain  pure;  one  would  have  thought 
that  through  the  years  even  the  deathless  springs 
would  have  been  contaminated.  Long  ago  it  had 
been  a  Hopi  camp;  in  their  tongue  it  was  called 
the  "  Half  Way  between  Here  and  There."  Later 
a  handful  of  treacherous  devils  from  below  the 
border  had  swooped  down  into  the  cottonwood 
hollow.  They  had  dissipated  the  Indian  group,  for 
the  sake  of  robbery  and  murder.  They  had  squatted 
by  the  water-holes,  prototypes  of  the  crooked  build 
ings  which  now  recalled  them;  they  had  builded  the 
town  by  the  simple  device  of  driving  Indian  laborers 
to  the  task.  White  men  subsequently  had  come,  men 
of  the  restless  foot,  lone  prospectors,  cattlemen. 
They  had  lodged  briefly  at  the  hotel  which  necessity 
had  called  into  being,  had  played  cards  in  the  adobe 
of  'Tonio  Moraga,  had  quarreled  with  the  surly 
southerners,  had  now  and  then  shot  their  way  out 
into  the  clear  starlit  night  or  had  known  the  cruel 
bite  of  steel,  and  in  any  case  had  left  Big  Run  as 
they  had  found  it — a  town  oddly  American  in  noth 
ing  whatever  save  its  name,  which  had  come  whence 
and  how  no  man  knew. 

First  into  town  that  morning  rode  Yellow  Barbee ; 
with  no  urge  to  linger  and  a  definite  destination 
ahead,  he  always  rode  hard,  his  hat  far  back,  his 
blue  eyes  shining.  He  sent  his  lean  roan  on  the  run 
down  the  crooked  street  among  the  crooked  houses ; 

71 


Desert  Valley 

he  scattered  a  handful  of  dirty  ducks  flopping  and 
scuttling  out  of  his  way;  he  drew  after  him  a  noisy 
barking  of  dogs,  startled  out  of  their  sleep  in  the 
shade;  he  brought  his  horse  up  with  a  sharp  jerk 
of  the  reins  before  the  blue-and-white  sign  of  the 
saloon ;  he  was  half  out  of  the  saddle  when  a  glimpse 
of  something  down  the  street  altered  his  intention  in 
a  flash;  he  wheeled  his  horse  and,  with  one  tapadero 
flying  wildly,  one  boot  hanging  loose  and  free  of  the 
stirrup,  his  big  hat  in  his  hand,  his  eyes  on  fire,  he 
went  racing  back  down  the  street  and  again  stopped 
with  a  jerk.  This  time  the  sign  before  him  spelled 
hotel.  Leaving  his  horse  to  pant  and  fight  flies, 
Yellow  Barbee  strode  in  at  the  open  door. 

Next  came  in  due  time  Tod  Barstow  and  the  mule 
team  and  Longstreet.  They  clattered  along  in 
clouds  of  high-puffed  dust,  harness  jingling.  Bar- 
stow  swung  his  leaders  skilfully  and  narrowly 
around  the  broken  corners  of  old  adobes  and 
slammed  on  his  brake  before  the  store,  that  is  to  say, 
halfway  between  saloon  and  hotel.  He  climbed 
down,  Longstreet  after  him. 

Finally  came  the  loiterers,  Helen  and  Carr  and 
Howard.  They  noted  Barbee's  roan  at  its  hitching- 
rail;  further  they  glimpsed  thrQugh  a  thirsty-looking 
dusty  vine  that  which  Barbee  had  glimpsed  before 
them.  Someone  wearing  cool,  laundered  white  was 
out  upon  the  side  porch;  Barbee's  voice,  young  and 
eager,  low  yet  vibrant,  bespoke  Barbee's  proximity 
to  the  Someone. 

"  The  widow,"  said  Carr.  He  looked  at  Howard. 
"  I'll  bet  you  a  hat  it's  Mrs.  Murray,  Al." 

It  was  vaguely  impressed  upon  Helen  that  a  sig- 
72 


The  Youthful  Heart 

nificance  less  casual  than  the  light  words  themselves 
lay  in  Carr's  remark.  She,  too,  looked  at  Howard. 
There  was  a  frown  in  his  eyes.  Slowly,  as  his  look 
met  hers,  a  flush  spread  in  his  cheeks.  Carr  saw  it 
and  laughed  amusedly. 

"  Look  out,  Al,"  he  chuckled.  "  Shell  get  you 
yet." 

Now  Howard  laughed  with  him  and  the  flush 
subsided. 

"  John  thinks  he's  a  great  little  josher,  Miss 
Helen,"  he  said  lightly.  "  No  doubt  you'll  meet 
Mrs.  Murray  at  lunch;  you  just  watch  the  way  slie 
looks  at  John  Carr ! — There's  the  professor  waiting 
for  us. — John,  I'll  lay  you  a  bet  of  another  hat?" 

"Well?"  asked  Carr. 

"  I'll  bet  you  Jim  Courtot  has  turned  up  again." 

But  Longstreet  had  sighted  them  and  was  out  in 
the  road  calling  to  them,  and  Carr  made  no  answer. 


73 


CHAPTER  VII 

WAITING  FOR  MOONRISE 

upward  of  two  hours  Longstreet  and  Helen 
were  at  the  store,  making  their  purchases. 
Carr  said  good-by,  promising  to  look  them  up  at 
their  camp  at  the  ridge  by  the  time  they  should  be 
ready  for  callers;  he  shook  hands  warmly  with  the 
professor,  and  for  a  moment  stood  over  Helen, 
looking  steadily  into  her  eyes.  She  returned  his 
regard  frankly  and  friendlily,  but  in  the  end  flushed 
a  little.  When  Carr  went  out,  Howard,  saying  that 
he  would  be  back  presently,  went  out  with  him. 

"  Two  bang-up,  square-shooting  gents !  "  cried 
Longstreet  warmly.  Helen  turned  upon  him  in 
amazement. 

"  Papa !  "  she  gasped.  "  Where  on  earth  did  you 
get  that  sort  of  talk?  " 

Longstreet  smiled  brightly. 

"  Haven't  I  told  you,  my  dear,"  he  explained, 
"  that  when  in  Rome  one  should  learn  from  the 
Romans?" 

He  led  the  way  to  the  counter.  It  was  heaped 
high  with  all  sorts  of  merchandise,  dry  goods  and 
groceries,  and  hardware — anything  the  purchaser 
might  desire  from  ham  and  bacon  and  tinned  goods 
to  shirts  and  overalls,  spurs  and  guns.  Behind  it 
stood  the  proprietor,  a  slant-eyed,  thievish-looking 
Mexican,  while  behind  him  were  his  untidy  shelves, 

74- 


Waiting  for  Moonrise 

a  further  jumble  of  commodities.  He  looked  his 
approval  at  the  girl,  his  professional  interest  at  the 
father. 

Longstreet  frankly  turned  out  the  contents  of  his 
purse  upon  the  counter,  his  ready  way  of  computing 
their  resources  and  judging  the  proper  cash  outlay 
for  the  present.  The  slant  eyes  grew  narrower  with 
speculation. 

"  One  hundred  and  eighty-odd  dollars,"  he  com 
puted  approximately.  "  We'll  spend  about  a  hun 
dred  with  you  today,  my  friend." 

"  Bueno,  senor"  agreed  the  Mexican.  And  he 
waved  to  his  shelves. 

Helen,  who  knew  only  too  well  her  father's 
carelessness  in  money  matters,  was  not  satisfied  with 
an  approximate  estimate  of  their  resources.  She 
counted  carefully. 

"  You  should  have  had  nearer  two  hundred  dol 
lars,  pops,"  she  told  him  gently.  "  Have  you  felt 
in  all  your  pockets?  I  am  afraid  that  you  have  lost 
a  five-  or  ten-dollar  piece." 

He  evaded.  "  It's  of  no  moment,"  he  said  hastily. 
"  A  few  bucks  one  way  or  the  other  won't  plug  a 
hole  in  a  'dobe  wall.  And  this  hombre  is  waiting." 

This  time  Helen  did  not  even  gasp.  Something 
had  occurred  to  work  havoc  with  her  father's  ac 
customed  fine  academic  speech.  This  smacked,  she 
thought,  of  the  influence  of  Barbee. 

But  soon  she  forgot  this  and  with  it  the  dis 
crepancy  in  cash;  she  had  begun  to  purchase,  to 
barter  with  the  storekeeper,  to  fairly  revel  in  de 
lights  of  camp  preparations.  For,  after  all,  life 
was  not  all  seriousness,  and  here,  offering  itself 

75 


Desert  Valley 

for  the  morrow,  was  a  rare  lark.  A  spice  of  reck 
lessness  entered  the  moment;  the  dollars  went  skip 
ping  across  the  counter  and  packages  and  boxes 
came  heaped  up  in  their  places. 

Howard  looked  in  on  them  once;  they  did  not 
see  him.  He  went  his  way,  and  still  Longstreet 
made  new  suggestions  and  Helen  and  the  Mexican 
bargained.  The  first  coolness  of  the  late  afternoon 
was  stirring,  the  broad  sun  had  gone  down,  leaving 
the  land  in  soft,  grateful  shadow,  something  over  a 
hundred  dollars  had  been  spent  when  with  a  sigh 
Helen  put  the  residue  of  the  family  fortune  into 
the  old  purse,  and  the  purse,  though  hesitantly,  into 
her  father's  pocket.  She  did  not  want  to  hurt  his 
feelings  now;  but  she  really  thought  that  once  they 
were  settled  in  their  new  home,  she  ought  to  employ 
some  tactful  method  of  acquiring  custody. 

They  went  down  the  dusty  street  arm  in  arm  and 
in  gay  spirits.  Tod  Barstow  had  driven  off  to  a 
stable  somewhere;  the  goods  were  to  be  called  for 
tomorrow  morning;  now  they  could  go  down  to 
the  hotel,  to  the  chairs  on  the  shady  porch,  and 
then  to  dinner.  And,  thought  Helen,  with  more 
than  a  flicker  of  interest,  she  would  see  the 
"  widow." 

As  though  she  were  awaiting  them,  Mrs.  Murray 
was  on  the  porch.  With  her,  Barbee,  who  rose 
promptly  and  elaborately  performed  the  ceremony 
of  introduction. 

"  Mr.  Longstreet,"  he  said  formally,  "  shake 
hands  with  my  friend,  Mrs.  Murray.  Miss  Long- 
street,  make  you  acquainted  with  my  friend,  Mrs. 
Murray." 

76 


Waiting  for  Moonrise 

Mrs.  Murray  shook  hands  with  them  both,  ex 
claiming  brightly  at  her  delight.  Then,  as  they  all 
sat  down,  she  and  Helen  considered  each  other. 
Oddly,  Helen  had  known  all  along  that  she  would 
not  like  Mrs.  Murray;  now,  and  after  the  first 
probing  glance,  she  was  prepared  for  downright 
dislike.  Longstreet,  on  the  other  hand,  was  obvi 
ously  very  favorably  impressed.  Nor  without  more 
than  a  little  to  be  said  on  his  side  of  the  question. 
The  woman  was  young,  petite,  dark  and  unusually 
pretty.  Her  teeth  flashed  in  engaging  smiles,  her 
eyes  were  large  and  quick  and  bright;  she  was  all 
vivacity;  her  glance  could  be  at  one  moment  limpid, 
humid,  haunting,  and  at  the  moment  hold  a  gleam 
and  sparkle  of  mirth.  Even  Helen  could  find  no 
fault  with  her  little  traveling  suit. 

Plain  to  be  read  by  anyone  with  a  claim  to  eye 
sight  was  Yellow  Barbee's  devotion;  equally  plainly 
decipherable,  thought  Helen,  was  the  fact  of  Mrs. 
Murray's  amusement  at  Barbee's  infatuation.  It 
meant  nothing  to  her;  she  was  playing  with  him  as, 
no  doubt,  she  had  played  with  many  another  sus 
ceptible  youngster.  Helen  was  sure  she  read  that 
in  the  eyes  which  the  young  woman  turned  now  and 
then  upon  the  languishing  young  cowboy. 

Presently  Alan  Howard  put  in  his  appearance, 
freshly  shaven  and  shorn,  and  they  all  went  in  to 
gether  to  supper.  Helen  was  unaffectedly  glad  to 
see  him;  she  had  seen  all  that  she  cared  to  see  of 
Mrs.  Murray  and  something  more  than  that  of 
Barbee.  Howard  greeted  Mrs.  Murray  casually; 
she  cried  a  friendly,  "  Oh,  hello,  Al!"  and  he 
stepped  to  Helen's  side.  Barbee  hastened  to  place 

77 


Desert  Valley 

his  big  palm  under  Mrs.  Murray's  elbow  and 
steered  her,  after  the  approved  fashion  of  the  com 
munity,  in  to  the  table.  She  allowed  him  the  lib 
erty,  but  while  Barbee's  eyes  devoured  her  face, 
Helen  managed  to  mark  that  the  "  widow "  was 
studying  Alan  Howard. 

At  table  Alan  and  Helen  found  a  variety  of  sub 
jects  to  interest  them;  Mrs.  Murray  stared  at  them 
a  moment,  then  shrugged  her  plump  shoulders  and 
made  Barbee  transcendently  happy  and  miserable 
by  turns;  Longstreet  ate  his  dried  beef  stew  ab 
stractedly.  Barbee  and  Mrs.  Murray,  who  finished 
first,  excused  themselves  and  went  back  to  the  gath 
ering  dusk  of  the  porch,  whence  her  light  laughter 
came  now  and  then  trilling  back  into  the  dining- 
room. 

"Who  is  she?"  asked  Helen,  her  eyes  full  upon 
Howard's. 

"  Mrs.  Murray?"  He  shrugged.  ""That  is  all 
I  know  of  her;  or  that  anyone  I  know  knows  of 
her. — I  don't  fancy,"  he  added  coolly,  "  that  you 
will  like  her." 

"  I  don't,"  the  girl  announced  briefly. 

"  Mind  you,"  he  hurried  to  continue,  "  I  don't 
know  a  blessed  thing  against  her.  I  just  meant  that 
I  didn't  think  her  your  kind." 

"  Thank  you,"  Helen  replied,  accepting  the  state 
ment  as  a  satisfactory  compliment.  He  laughed. 
Then  he  looked  toward  the  professor,  whose 
thoughts  were  plainly  a  thousand  miles  away. 

"  I've  caught  an  inspiration,"  he  said  softly. 

"What  is  it?"  smiled  Helen. 

"  There'll  be  a  moon  in  two  or  three  hours.    At 

78 


Waiting  for  Moonrise 

best  the  accommodations  here  are  bad;  rooms  stuffy 
and  close  and  hot.  If  you  are  not  too  tired — " 

He  saw  that  she  understood  what  he  meant  and 
further  that  she  gave  her  glad  acceptance. 

"  It  will  be  fun !  "  she  told  him.  He  even  detected 
a  something  of  eagerness  in  her  tone;  he  had  already 
thought  that  it  would  be  just  he  and  she  this  time, 
they  two  alone  riding  together  out  through  the 
glorious  night,  chaperoned  only  by  the  knowledge 
that  somewhere  in  the  distance  behind  them  the 
wagon  jolted  along.  He  wondered  if  she,  too,  had 
thought  of  this? 

When  the  three  at  table  finished  and  went  out 
into  the  cool  of  the  porch  they  found  only  empty 
chairs;  a  half-silhouette  showed  where  Barbee 
leaned  against  a  pepper  tree  by  the  roadside.  Helen 
settled  herself  comfortably,  wondering  if  Mrs. 
Murray  had  re-entered  the  hotel  by  some  side  door 
or  if  she  had  business  elsewhere.  Howard  made 
the  suggestion  of  the  return  to  Desert  Valley.  Long- 
street  hesitated,  then  objected,  saying  that  by  now 
the  store  would  be  closed  and  that  the  wagon  was 
still  to  be  loaded. 

41  Tod  Barstow  will  be  up  at  the  saloon,  probably 
looking  for  a  game  of  cribbage,"  said  Howard.  "  It 
will  take  me  about  three  shakes  to  locate  him.  The 
store  will  be  open;  old  Mexican  Pete  lives  in  the 
back.  I'll  have  Tod  hitch  up  at  the  first  peep  of 
the  moon;  he  can  load  your  stuff  on  in  twenty 
minutes." 

Helen  added  her  voice  to  Alan's.  Longstreet's 
eyes  traveled  out  to  the  listless  figure  against  the 
pepper  tree.  At  the  moment  Barbee's  silhouette 

79 


Desert  Valley 

disengaged  itself  from  the  tree's  shadowy  trunk  and 
started  up  the  road. 

"  All  right,"  said  Longstreet.  "  But  you  needn't 
trouble  about  looking  up  Barstow;  I'd  enjoy  the 
walk.  If  you  and  Helen  will  wait  here,  I'll  see  that 
the  wagon  is  ready  about  moonrise."  And  as  though 
he  had  just  remembered  an  important  engagement 
he  hurried  away. 

They  saw  him  overtake  Barbee;  they  heard  his 
cheerful  voice,  and  then  a  surly  rejoinder  from  the 
boy.  Then,  far  across  the  sky,  a  star  fell  and  their 
eyes  went  to  it  together  and  they  fell  silent.  When 
the  brief  silence  was  gone,  and  they  talked  in  low 
ered  voices,  they  had  both  forgotten  Longstreet  and 
Barbee.  And,  for  one,  Alan  Howard  was  in  no 
haste  for  the  rising  moon. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
POKER  AND  THE  SCIENTIFIC  MIND 

BARBEE,  as  he  himself  would  have  expressed 
it,  was  soured  on  life.  At  least  for  the  mo 
ment,  and  after  all  that  is  about  all  that  life  is,  the 
instant  that  it  is  passing.  When  Longstreet  called  to 
him  he  grunted  in  disgust.  He  shoved  his  hands 
deeper  into  his  pockets  and  spat  out  the  cold  stump 
of  his  cigarette.  It  was  Barbee's  natural  way  to 
swing  along  with  his  hat  far  back,  so  that  he  might 
see  the  stars.  Now  his  hat  brim  was  dragged  low, 
and  for  Barbee  the  stars  were  only  less  remote  and 
frigid  than  a  certain  fickle  woman. 

"  I  say,  Barbee,'*  called  the  professor  a  second 
time. 

Barbee  slumped  on  without  turning,  but  growled 
over  his  shoulder: 

"  Can't  you  leave  a  man  alone  ?" 

Longstreet  doubted  his  ears;  the  boy  had  been 
so  friendly.  He  tried  hurriedly  and  in  vain  to  recall 
some  trifle  in  which  perhaps,  being  misunderstood, 
he  had  offended.  During  his  mental  uncertainty  the 
natural  physical  hesitancy  had  resulted  in  Barbee's 
gaining  a  lead  of  a  dozen  steps.  Hence  when  a 
white  figure  flitted  out  from  the  shadows  to  the 
boy's  side  Longstreet  was  not  near  enough  to  hear 
the  whispered  words;  the  soft  trill  of  a  laugh  he 

8i 


Desert  Valley 

caught,  to  be  sure,  and  immediately  recognized  as 
Mrs.  Murray's.  Then  she  had  drawn  away  from 
Barbee,  called  good-night  and  passed  on  to  the  hotel, 
so  close  to  Longstreet  that  her  skirts  brushed  him. 
Barbee  stood  still  watching  her  until  she  disappeared 
under  the  porch  vines.  Longstreet  came  on  to 
his  side  then.  They  fell  into  step  and  again 
Barbee  was  swaggering  with  his  old  buoyancy; 
again  his  hat  was  far  back  and  his  eyes  were  on  the 
stars. 

"Hello,  old  sport,"  he  said  affably.  "Some 
night,  ain't  it?" 

To  know  why  a  man  of  the  type  of  James  Ed 
ward  Longstreet  should  be  flattered  at  being  called 
"old  sport"  by  one  of  the  type  of  Yellow  Barbee 
is  to  understand  human  nature;  Longstreet  was 
utterly  human.  The  bonds  of  environment  are 
bands  of  steel;  the  little  boy  that  close  to  threescore 
years  ago  was  Johnny  Longstreet  had  been  restricted 
by  them,  his  growth  had  been  that  of  a  gourd  with  a 
strap  about  its  middle ;  he  had  perforce  grown  in  con 
formity  with  the  commands  of  the  outside  pressure. 
Had  he  been  born  in  Poco  PocO  and  reared  on  a 
ranch,  it  is  at  least  likely  that  he  would  not  have 
been  a  professor  in  an  Eastern  university.  Now 
that  the  steel  girdles  of  environment  were  stricken 
off  it  appeared  that  the  youthful  heart  of  him  stimu 
lated  new  growth.  As  for  heredity,  environment's 
colaborer,  both  he  and  Barbee  were  lineal  descend 
ants  of  father  Adam  and  mother  Eve. — But,  be 
the  explanation  where  it  may,  "the  everlast 
ing  miracle  "  was  the  same  and  the  "  old  sport " 
beamed  as  he  would  not  have  done  had  the  Uni- 

82 


Poker  and  the  Scientific  Mind 

versity  of  Edinburgh  bestowed  upon  him  a  new 
degree. 

"  Let's  frolic  a  few,"  suggested  Barbee,  with  a 
sidelong  glance. 

"  I  have  some  business  to  attend  to,"  said  Long- 
street  eagerly.  "  I'll  hurry  through  with  it.  Then — 
then  I  assure  you  that  I  shall  be  glad  to  witness  with 
you  the — the  gaiety  of  the — of  the  places  of  amuse 
ment  here." 

He  explained  what  his  business  was. 

"  You  stop  at  the  store,  then,"  said  Barbee. 
"  Tell  Mexico  Pete  to  have  your  grub  and  truck 
ready;  I'll  mosey  on  up  to  the  saloon  and  scare  up 
Tod  and  tell  him  about  the  team.  I'll  wait  for  you 
up  there.  And,  since  we  ain't  got  all  night,  suppose 
you  shake  a  foot,  pardner." 

When  a  few  minutes  later  Longstreet  reached  the 
adobe  saloon  of  'Tonio  Moraga,  he  found  Yellow 
Barbee  smoking  a  cigarette  outside  the  deep-set 
door. 

"  Kind  of  quiet,"  apologized  the  young  fellow. 
"  But  we'll  look  'em  over." 

He  struck  the  door  open  with  his  shoulder  and 
Longstreet  followed  him  into  a  big  room  sufficiently 
well  lighted  by  a  couple  of  hanging  kerosene  lamps. 
At  one  side  was  an  ancient,  battered  bar;  behind  the 
bar  a  lazy  Mexican  in  shirt  sleeves;  at  one  end  Tod 
Barstow  pouring  the  cool  contents  of  a  pint  bottle 
of  some  pinkish  beverage  directly  from  the  throat 
of  the  bottle  into  his  own  throat;  lounging  idly  in 
chairs  of  various  interesting  stages  of  dilapidation 
half  a  dozen  men,  all  dark-skinned,  black  of  mustache 
and  hair.  Barstow's  position  necessitated  the  fixing 

83 


Desert  Valley 

of  his  eyes  upon  the  ceiling;  all  other  glances,  ignor 
ing  Barbee,  centered  upon  Longstreet.  He  was 
smiling  and  eager. 

"  Come  alive,  gents !  "  called  Barbee  genially. 
"  Stack  up  alongside  the  bar  and  I'll  buy!  Moraga," 
to  the  bartender,  "  you  know  me.  I  got  a  real  bad 
case  of  alkali  throat.  Roll  up,  boys. — Say,  wait  a 
minute.  Moraga,  meet  my  friend  Longstreet/' 
Moraga  showed  many  large  white  teeth  in  a 
friendly  smile  and  gave  into  Longstreet's  keeping 
a  small,  moist  and  very  flabby  hand.  The  other 
men,  silently  accepting  the  invitation,  came  forward; 
Barbee  introduced  them  all.  Longstreet's  was  the 
emotion  of  one  being  initiated  into  a  new  fraternity. 

They  named  their  poison,  in  the  parlance  of  the 
neighborhood,  and  stood  to  their  glasses  like  so 
many  valiant  gunners.  Longstreet,  big  enough  in 
his  views  of  humanity,  to  look  upon  them  as  so 
many  boyish  souls,  beamed.  Then  he  noted  that 
they  seemed  to  be  waiting  for  something,  wondered 
what  it  might  be,  glanced  over  his  shoulder,  looked 
back  at  them  and  understood.  They  were  waiting 
for  him.  So  he  said  hastily,  and  in  their  own 
phrase : 

"Same  thing." 

Which,  of  course,  brought  down  to  his  place  on 
the  bar  a  small  glass  and  a  large  bottle.  He  had 
never  done  a  thing  like  this  in  all  the  calm  days  of 
his  existence,  but  now  the  deed  came  naturally 
enough.  He  poured  his  glass  and  even  echoed  the 
other  remarks  of  "  Here's  how."  When  the  fiery 
liquor  arrived  in  his  stomachical  regions  he  realized 
with  perfect  clarity  that  it  was  without  doubt 


Poker  and  the  Scientific  Mind 

some  newly  invented  substitute  for  whiskey;  perhaps 
that  jackass-brandy  which  he  had  heard  of.  His 
emotion  was  duofold;  he  was  glad  that  Helen  was 
at  the  hotel  and  he  was  determined  not  to  repeat  the 
dose. 

"That's  the  goods,"  said  Longstreet  jocularly, 
trying  to  smack  his  lips. 

Barbee  led  the  way  to  the  nearest  table  and  out 
of  the  nowhere  brought  into  the  here  a  deck  of 
cards.  Longstreet  was  on  the  verge  of  applauding 
when  he  noted  that  everyone  else  accepted  the  act 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  and  subsided  into  himself  and 
into  a  chair  at  the  same  moment. 

"Who'll  make  it  four-cornered?"  demanded 
Barbee.  "  Short,  but  lively  while  she  lasts.  Little 
old  game,  name  of  stud  horse?" 

Two  of  the  Mexicans,  having  hesitated  and  then 
looked  to  Barbee,  came  forward  and  deposited 
themselves  carelessly  in  the  two  chairs.  Barbee 
shuffled,  cut,  shuffled  again  and  put  the  cards  down. 

"  Cut  for  deal,"  he  ordered. 

When  each  of  the  other  men  had  leaned  forward 
and  lifted  a  sheaf  of  cards,  Longstreet  divided  the 
remainder.  The  deal  went  to  Barbee.  And  what 
is  more,  Longstreet  understood  why;  Barbee  showed 
the  highest  card,  a  king.  Longstreet  straightened 
in  his  chair  and  his  interest  grew;  he  went  over  in 
mind  what  he  had  learned  at  the  ranch.  A  pair 
beats  a  stiff,  two  pair  beat  a  pair,  threes  beat  two 
pair  and  so  on.  It  was  simplicity  itself  and  here 
was  he,  Professor  Edward  Longstreet,  measuring 
his  judgment  against  that  of  Mexican  Mendoza, 
Mexican  Chavez  and  Yellow  Barbee,  cowpunch. 


Desert  Valley 

Ready  from  the  flip  of  the  first  card  to  concede  that 
these  gentlemen  had  had  a  rather  wider  experience 
with  card-playing,  none  the  less  he  realized  the 
superiority  of  his  mentality,  his  greater  intellectual 
training,  and  fully  expected  something  more  than 
just  an  "  even  break."  He  concealed  the  faces  of 
his  cards  cannily  and  gave  his  scholarly  brain  entirely 
to  a  pleasant  task  in  mathematics. 

Through  many  years  of  training  he  was  familiar 
with  abstruse  problems;  hence  it  may  be  forgiven 
him,  if,  at  first  blush,  this  form  of  poker  appeared 
simplicity  itself.  He  reasoned  thus:  There  were 
fifty-two  cards  in  the  full  deck;  there  were  exactly 
four,  neither  more  nor  less,  of  each  ace,  deuce,  trey 
and  so  forth  until  one  got  to  the  king;  there  were, 
also,  just  four  men  drawing  cards;  each  man,  if  he 
played  his  hand  out,  could  draw  five  cards.  All  of 
this  was  data;  it  seemed  as  though  he  had  x  and  y 
given  and  was  merely  to  find  z.  His  eye,  as  the 
game  began,  registered  zest. 

He  remembered  former  instructions :  Each  man's 
first  card,  dealt  face  down,  was  to  remain  face  down 
until  the  hand  was  played  out;  the  owner  of  that 
first  card,  and  no  other  man,  had  the  right  to  turn 
up  the  corner  and  discover  what  it  was.  So  when 
Barbee  tossed  his  card  to  him,  Longstreet  wasted  no 
time  in  peeking  at  it.  It  was  the  ace  of  clubs;  not 
a  better  card  in  the  deck!  He  lifted  his  face  and 
beamed;  it  was  a  good  start.  And  this  time  the 
emotion  registered  in  his  frank  eye  was  that  of  a 
guileless  old  gentleman  who  has  an  ace  in  the  hole. 
There  was  no  misreading  that  triumphant  gleam. 

Again  the  cards  fell  gently  from  Barbee's  prac- 
86 


Poker  and  the  Scientific  Mind 

tised  hand,  each  of  the  four  faces  up  this  time. 
Longstreet's  was  a  king;  he  nodded  his  acceptance 
and  approval.  All  of  the  time  his  brain  was  busied 
with  his  developing  theory  of  chances:  there  were 
four  aces,  four  kings  in  the  deck,  and  he  already  had 
one  of  each.  There  were  four  players  in  all;  there 
were  fifty-two  cards;  it  was  unlikely  that  in  this  hand 
another  king  should  turn  up.  And  no  other  king 
did;  he  had  the  high  card.  He  smiled  warmly. 

"  The  high  card  bets,"  drawled  Barbee. 

"  Oh!  "  exclaimed  Longstreet.  "  Yes,  to  be  sure. 
Let  me  see." 

His  sparkling  eye  roved  about  the  table.  Bar- 
bee's  exposed  card  was  a  jack,  one  of  the  Mexicans 
had  a  ten  and  the  other  a  four.  Longstreet  felt  both 
warmed  with  triumph  and  yet  a  little  sorry  for  them. 
So  he  did  the  kind  thing  by  them  and  bet  only  a 
dollar.  The  two  Mexicans  lifted  their  brows  at 
him,  looked  to  Barbee,  and  then  with  a  splendid 
show  of  nonchalance  both  came  in.  Barbee  chinked 
his  silver  dollar  down  upon  the  others  and  dealt  the 
third  card.  Longstreet  waited  breathlessly. 

This  time  there  came  to  him  another  king,  the 
king  of  spades,  and  his  little  exclamation  of  genuine 
delight  was  a  pretty  thing  to  hear.  But  the  next 
second  a  look  of  frowning  incredulity  overspread 
his  features;  the  king  of  hearts  fell  to  Chavez  and 
the  king  of  diamonds  to  Mendoza.  Barbee  gave 
himself  an  ace.  But  it  was  not  the  ace  that  inter 
ested  Longstreet;  his  newly  born  theory  of  chances 
was  a  trifle  upset.  That  three  kings,  when  there 
were  only  three  left  in  the  deck,  should  come  one 
on  the  heels  of  another  was  a  matter  for  reflection. 


Desert  Valley 

But  evidently  there  was  no  time  granted  for  re 
adjustment  of  preconceived  ideas. 

"  Longstreet's  the  only  man  with  a  pair  in  sight," 
said  Barbee.  "  It's  your  bet  again,  Longstreet." 

Longstreet  hurriedly  bet  a  dollar.  Chavez,  with 
a  king  and  ten  in  view,  raised  the  bet  four  dollars. 
Mendoza  withdrew  his  hand  and  his  attention  and 
began  rolling  a  cigarette,  never  once  taking  his  eyes 
from  Longstreet's  eager  face.  Barbee  tossed  in  his 
five  dollars,  and  Longstreet  was  brought  to  realize 
that  if  he  wished  to  remain  in  the  game  it  was  in 
order  for  him  to  add  another  four  dollars  to  his 
bet.  He  did  so  without  a  moment's  hesitation.  And 
again  he  began  his  search  of  the  deathless  under 
lying  mathematical  law  of  the  game  of  stud  poker. 

Meanwhile  Barbee  dealt  the  fourth  card.  When 
the  fates  had  it  that  a  second  ace  fell  to  Longstreet's 
lot  they  should  have  been  amply  repaid  by  the  glow 
ing  smile  that  widened  his  good-humored  mouth. 
He  now  had,  and  he  realized  to  the  full  his  strategic 
position  in  that  no  one  else  could  have  his  secret 
knowledge,  a  pair  of  kings  and  a  pair  of  aces.  The 
two  biggest  pairs  in  the  deck!  He  looked  with 
renewed  interest  at  the  other  cards.  Chavez  now 
had  two  tens  exposed;  before  Barbee  lay  no  pair 
at  all,  just  a  jack,  an  ace  and  a  five.  There  was  but 
one  more  card  to  be  dealt.  He  could  therefore 
count  Barbee  out  of  the  running.  It  remained  to 
him  and  Chavez,  and  Chavez  had  only  a  pair  of 
tens  in  sight. 

"  Your  bet  again,  Longstreet,"  Barbee  reminded 
him.  He  started  and  bet  his  dollar.  Chavez  re 
peated  his  earlier  performance  and  raised  the  bet 


Poker  and  the  Scientific  Mind 

four  dollars.  Barbee  tossed  away  his  cards;  Long- 
street  noted  the  act  triumphantly,  and  nodded  in 
the  manner  of  a  father  approving  the  wise  act  of 
a  young  untried  son. 

"What  you  do,  senor?"  asked  the  Mexican. 
Longstreet  withdrew  his  eyes  from  Barbee  and  gave 
his  attention  to  his  antagonist,  a  half-bred  Mexican 
of  low-grade  mentality  who  was  offering  a  duel  of 
wits !  He  bet  the  requisite  four  dollars. 

And  now  from  Barbee's  fingers  came  the  last 
cards,  one  for  Longstreet  and  one  for  Chavez. 
Longstreet  drew  a  queen  and  went  into  the  silence 
of  deep  meditation;  to  Chavez  came  a  lowly  seven. 
Longstreet  needed  no  prompting  that  it  was  time 
to  bet;  further  he  understood  that  this  was  the  last 
round,  the  final  opportunity.  He  did  not  wait  for 
the  customary  raise  of  Chavez,  but  slipped  five  dol 
lars  into  the  pot  and  sat  back,  beaming. 

Nor  did  the  Mexican  hesitate.  He  pushed  out 
to  the  center  of  the  table  with  slow  brown  fingers 
two  twenty-dollar  gold  pieces. 

"You — you  raise  me?"  asked  Longstreet. 

"Si,  senor.     T'irty-fife  pesos  mas." 

Longstreet  curbed  a  desire  to  warn  the  man,  to 
insist  that  he  reconsider.  But  in  the  end  he  kept 
his  own  counsel  and  made  his  complementary  bet 
of  thirty-five  dollars. 

"  Call  you,"  he  said  quite  in  his  best  form. 

The  Mexican  extracted  from  the  bottom  of  his 
cards  the  first  one  dealt  him  face  down  and  flipped 
it  over  carelessly.  It  was  a  ten;  he  had  three  tens 
and  the  professor's  extremely  handsome  pairs  of 
aces  and  kings  were  as  nothing.  The  Mexican's 


Desert  Valley 

brown  fingers  drew  the  winnings  in  toward  him, 
Longstreet' s  fifty-one  dollars  among  them.  Long- 
street  stared  at  him  and  at  Barbee  and  at  the  treach 
erous  cards  themselves  in  sheer  bewilderment. 

It  was  not  that  he  was  shocked  at  the  loss  of  a 
rather  large  sum  of  money  in  his  present  circum 
stances;  his  brain  did  not  focus  on  the  point.  He 
was  trying  to  see  in  what  his  advance  theories  had 
miscarried.  For  certainly  it  had  seemed  extremely 
unlikely  that  Chavez  would  have  had  three  tens. 
Why,  there  were  only  four  tens  in  the  deck  of  fifty- 
two,  there  were  four  men  playing,  there  remained 
in  the  deck,  untouched,  thirty-two  cards — 

"  Deal  'em  up,"  said  Barbee.  "  Your  deal,  old 
boy." 

"  It  lies  entirely  within  the  scope  of  conservative 
probability,"  said  Longstreet,  blandly,  his  eyes 
carrying  the  look  of  a  man  who  in  spirit  is  far  away 
from  his  physical  environment,  "  that,  after  all,  my 
data  were  not  sufficient." 

"  Talking  to  me?"  said  Barbee.  He  made  a 
playful  show  of  looking  over  his  shoulder  to  the 
invisible  recipient  of  Longstreet' s  confidences;  at  the 
moment  a  door  behind  him  opened  and  a  new  face 
did  actually  appear.  Barbee's  glance  grew  into  a 
stare  of  surprise.  Then  he  turned  square  about  in 
his  chair  again  and  snapped  out:  "  Deal,  can't 
you?"  Longstreet  saw  that  the  boy's  face  was 
red;  that  his  eyes  burned  malignantly. 

"  Hello,  Barbee,"  said  the  man  in  the  newly 
opened  door.  He  came  fully  into  the  room  and 
closed  the  door  after  him. 

"  Hello,  Courtot,"  answered  Barbee  colorlessly. 
90 


Poker  and  the  Scientific  Mind 

With  an  effort  Longstreet  had  withdrawn  his 
analytic  faculties  from  the  consideration  of  the 
recent  problem  that  had  been  solved  for  him  by 
the  cards  themselves;  now  he  was  busied  with  col 
lecting  them,  arranging  them  and  getting  ready  to 
shuffle.  Among  the  amused  eyes  watching  him  he 
was  conscious  of  a  pair  of  eyes  that  were  not  simply 
amused,  the  eyes  of  Jim  Courtot.  He  looked  up 
arid  took  stock  of  the  newcomer,  impelled  to  some 
thing  more  exhaustive  than  a  superficial  interest  by 
that  intangible  but  potent  thing  termed  personality. 
This  man  who  had  entered  the  room  in  familiar 
fashion  through  a  back  door  and  a  rear  room,  was 
of  the  magnetic  order;  were  he  silent  in  a  gathering 
of  talking  men  he  must  have  been  none  the  less  a 
conspicuous  figure.  And  not  because  of  any  unusual 
saliency  of  physical  attributes;  rather  for  that 
emanation  of  personality  which  is  like  electricity, — 
which,  perhaps,  is  electricity.  , 

He  was  tall,  thin,  very  dark;  his  eyes  were  of 
beady  blackness;  he  affected  the  somber  in  garb 
from  black  hat  and  dark  shirt  to  darker  trousers 
and  black  boots.  His  face  was  clean-shaven;  maybe 
he  had  just  now  been  shaving  in  the  rear  room.  His 
age  might  have  lain  anywhere  between  thirty-five 
and  fifty.  There  are  men  like  Jim  Courtot,  of  dark 
visages  and  impenetrable  eyes,  thin  and  sallow 
men,  upon  whom  the  passing  years  appear  to  work 
all  of  their  havoc  early  and  then  be  like  vicious 
stinging  things  deprived  of  their  stings. 

"  For  God's  sake !  "  spoke  up  Barbee,  querulously 
and  nervously.  "  Are  you  going  to  shuffle  all  the 
spots  off?  Come  alive,  Longstreet." 

91 


Desert  Valley 

Longstreet  allowed  Barbee  to  cut  and  began 
dealing.  Jim  Courtot,  his  step  quick  but  strangely 
noiseless,  came  to  the  table.  His  eyes  were  for 
Barbee  as  he  said  quietly: 

"  Just  a  little  game  for  fun?  Any  objection  if 
I  kick  in?" 

Barbee  frowned.  Further,  he  hesitated — and 
hesitation  played  but  a  small  part  in  El  Joven's 
make-up.  Finally  he  evaded. 

"  Where've  you  been  all  this  long  time, 
Courtot?"  he  asked  sullenly.  "The  biggest  game 
of  six  years  was  pulled  off  dowrn  in  Poco  Poco  last 
week  and  you  wasn't  there.  I  heard  a  man  say 
you  must  be  dead." 

Courtot  considered  him  gravely.  Longstreet  re 
garded  the  man,  fascinated.  He  did  not  believe 
that  the  man  knew  how  to  smile.  To  imagine  Jim 
Courtot  laughing  was  to  fancy  a  statue  laughing. 

'*  When  there's  a  big  game  pulled  off  and  I'm 
riot  there,  kid,"  he  answered  when  he  was  good  and 
ready  to  answer,  "  it's  because  there's  a  bigger 
game  somewhere  else.  And  I'm  heeled  to  play  in 
your  little  game  if  you  think  you're  man  enough  to 
take  me  on." 

Barbee  snarled  at  him. 

"  Damn  you,"  he  said  savagely. 

Jim  Courtot  drew  up  his  chair  and  sat  down. 
There  was  a  strange  sort  of  swiftness  and  precision 
in  the  man's  smallest  acts.  Now  he  brought  from 
his  hip  pocket  a  handful  of  loose  coins  and  set  the 
heap  on  the  table  before  him.  For  the  most  part 
the  coins  were  gold;  he  stood  ready  to  put  into 
play  several  hundred  dollars.- 

92 


Poker  and  the  Scientific  Mind 

"  Heeled,  kid,"  he  repeated.  The  voice  was 
as  nearly  dead  and  expressionless  as  a  human 
voice  can  be;  only  the  words  themselves  car 
ried  his  insolence.  "  Please  can  I  play  in  your 
game?  " 

To  Barbee's  youth  it  was  plain  challenge  and, 
though  he  hated  the  man  with  his  whole  soul,  Bar- 
bee's  youth  answered  hotly: 

"  I'll  take  you  on,  Jim  Courtot,  any  day." 

Thereafter  Courtot  ignored  Barbee.  He  turned 
to  Longstreet  and  watched  him  deal  five  cards  face 
down.  Then  he  appeared  to  lose  interest  in  every 
thing  saving  his  own  hand.  Longstreet  dealt  the 
second  five  cards,  faces  up.  They  fell  in  the  order 
of  nine,  four,  jack,  ace  and,  to  himself,  a  seven. 
He  did  not  believe  that  the  new  player  had  seen 
any  but  his  own  card.  Barbee,  to  whose  lot  the  ace 
had  fallen,  placed  his  bet.  There  was  bright  bitter 
challenge  in  his  eyes  as  he  stared  across  the  table 
at  Courtot. 

"  Ten  bucks  to  start  her  off,"  he  said  shortly. 

Longstreet  had  supposed  it  customary  to  begin 
with  a  dollar;  in  his  mind,  however,  there  was  little 
difference  between  one  and  ten.  Therefore  he  made 
no  remark  and  placed  his  own  money  in  the  pot. 
The  two  Mexicans  tossed  their  cards  away.  Courtot, 
looking  at  no  one,  and  without  speaking,  came  in. 
Longstreet  dealt  a  second  round.  Now  Courtot 
had  two  fours  in  sight;  Barbee  had  two  aces;  Long- 
street  a  king  and  a  seven  exposed,  but  also  a  king 
hidden.  When  Barbee  said,  "  Twenty  bucks  to 
play,"  and  said  it  viciously  with  a  jeering  stare  at 
Courtot,  Longstreet  began  counting  out  his  money. 

93 


Desert  Valley 

But  before  he  had  completed  the  slow  process  the 
street  door  opened. 

It  was  Alan  Howard.  He  stood  a  moment  on 
the  threshold,  his  look  one  of  sheer  amazement. 
He  had  come  looking  for  Professor  James  Edward 
Longstreet,  eminent  authority  upon  certain  geo 
logical  subjects.  Had  anyone  told  him  that  he 
would  find  his  man  playing  stud  poker  with  Barbee 
and  two  Mexicans  and  Jim  Courtot — 

"  Barbee !  "  he  cried  out  angrily,  coming  on 
swiftly  until  he  stood  over  the  table.  "  What  in 
hell's  name  do  you  mean  by  steering  Longstreet 
into  a  mess  like  this  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean?"  retorted  Barbee  hotly. 
"  What  business  is  it  of  yours?  " 

"I  mean  Jim  Courtot,"  cut  in  Howard  shortly. 
4  You  know  better  than  to  drag  any  friend  of  mine 
into  a  game  with  him." 

Courtot  appeared  calm  and  unconcerned. 

"  The  bet's  made,  gents,"  he  said  briefly.  "  Com 
ing  in,  Longstreet?" 

Longstreet  looked  confused.  Before  he  could 
frame  his  answer,  Howard  made  it  for  him.  And 
he  directed  it  straight  to  Courtot. 

"  I  haven't  had  time  to  tell  Mr.  Longstreet  about 
all  of  the  undesirable  citizens  hereabouts,"  he  an 
nounced  steadily.  "  No,  he's  not  coming  in." 

"  I  imagine  you'll  spill  an  earful  when  you  get 
going,  Alan,"  said  Courtot.  "  I'd  like  to  listen  in 
on  it." 

Straightway  the  two  Mexicans  rose  and  left  the 
table.  Barbee,  though  he  scorned  to  do  so,  pushed 
his  chair  back  a  little  and  kept  his  eyes  upon  the 

94 


Poker  and  the  Scientific  Mind 

faces  of  the  two  men.  Longstreet  went  from  con 
fusion  to  bewilderment.  Howard  considered  the 
matter  briefly;  then,  watching  Jim  Courtot  while  he 
spoke,  he  said  crisply: 

"  Mr.  Longstreet,  you  should  get  acquainted  a 
bit  before  you  play  cards  out  here.  Jim  Courtot 
there,  who  plans  to  rob  you  the  shortest  way,  is  a 
crook,  a  thief,  a  dirty  liar  and  a  treacherous  man- 
killer.  He's  rotten  all  the  way  through." 

A  man  does  not  fire  a  fuse  without  expecting  the 
explosion.  On  the  instant  that  Jim  Courtot's  hand 
left  his  pile  of  coins,  Alan  Howard's  boots  left  the 
floor.  The  cattleman  threw  himself  forward  and 
across  the  table  almost  with  his  last  word.  Courtot 
came  up  from  his  chair,  a  short-barreled  revolver 
in  his  hand.  But,  before  he  was  well  on  his  feet, 
before  the  short  barrel  had  made  its  required  brief 
arc,  Howard's  blow  landed.  With  all  of  his  force, 
with  all  of  the  weight  of  his  body,  he  struck  Jim 
Courtot  square  upon  the  chin.  Courtot  went  over 
backwards,  spilling  out  of  the  chair  that  crumpled 
and  snapped  and  broke  to  pieces;  his  gun  flew  wide 
across  the  room.  Howard's  impetus  carried  him 
on  across  the  table  so  that  he  too  fell,  and  across 
the  body  of  the  man  he  had  struck.  But  when  Alan 
got  to  his  feet,  Jim  Courtot  lay  still  and  uncon 
scious.  And,  for  one,  Longstreet  thought  that  he 
had  seen  manslaughter  done;  the  man's  look  was 
of  death. 

Howard  picked  up  his  hat  and  then  what  few 
of  the  scattered  coins  he  judged  were  Longstreet's. 
Then  he  took  the  gaping  little  man  by  the  arm  and 
led  him  to  the  door. 

95 


Desert  Valley 

"  Miss  Helen  wanted  you,"  he  said  as  they 
passed  outside. 

"  Did  you  kill  him?  "  Longstreet  was  shuddering. 

"  No,"  was  the  cool  answer.  "  But  it  looks  as 
if  I'd  have  to  some  day.  Better  not  say  anything 
about  this  to  Miss  Helen." 

"Good  Heavens,  no!"  ejaculated  Longstreet. 
"Not  a  word!" 


i  l 


CHAPTER  IX 
HELEN  KNEW 

SECOND  only  to  her  father's  was  Helen's  eager 
interest  in  the  world  about  her.  The  ride  back 
to  Desert  Valley  through  the  rich  moonlight  was  an 
experience  never  to  be  forgotten.  She  and  Howard 
alone  in  what  appeared  an  enchanted  and  limitless 
garden  of  silence  and  of  slumber,  their  horses'  feet 
falling  without  noise  as  though  upon  deep  carpets, 
the  bright  moon  and  its  few  attendant  stars  work 
ing  the  harsh  land  of  the  day  over  into  a  soft  sweet 
country  of  subtle  allurement — the  picture  of  all  this 
was  to  spring  up  vivid  and  vital  in  many  an  idle 
hour  of  the  days  to  follow.  Little  speech  passed 
between  them  that  night;  they  rode  close  together, 
they  forgot  the  wagon  which  rocked  and  jolted  along 
somewhere  far  behind  them;  they  were  content  to 
be  content  without  analyzing.  And  at  the  end  of 
the  ride,  when  she  felt  Alan's  strong  hands  aiding 
her  from  her  saddle,  Helen  sighed. 

The  next  morning  early  she  and  her  father  left 
Desert  Valley,  going  straight  to  the  professor's  des 
tination  in  the  Last  Ridge  country.  They  did  not 
see  Howard,  who  had  breakfasted  and  ridden  away 
before  dawn,  leaving  with  the  kitchen  boy  a  brief 
note  of  apology.  The  note  said  that  his  business 
was  urgent  and  that  he  would  call  to  see  them  in 
a  day  or  so;  further  that  Tod  Barstow  and  Chuck 

97 


Desert  Valley 

Evans  had  orders  to  haul  their  goods  in  the  wagon 
for  them  and  to  help  them  pitch  camp. 

Their  departure  was  like  a  small  procession.  The 
wagon,  carrying  all  their  household  goods,  went 
ahead.  Longstreet's  two  pack  horses  were  tied  to 
the  tail  end  of  the  wagon  and  trotted  along  with 
slack  tie-ropes.  Behind  them  rode  the  Longstreets 
upon  saddle  horses,  which  Chuck  Evans  had  brought 
to  the  house  for  them  with  his  employer's  compli 
ments. 

"  Al  said  you  was  to  ride  this  one,  miss,"  said 
Chuck  Evans. 

It  was  the  black  mare  on  which  Howard  had 
ridden  into  their  camp  the  first  morning — Sanchia? 
Or  Helen? 

i4  What  is  her  name?"  asked  Helen  quite  inno 
cently  when  she  had  mounted. 

Chuck  Evans  grinned  his  characteristic  happy 
grin. 

"  Funny  thing  about  that  mare's  name,"  he  con 
ceded  brightly. 

'  What  do  you  mean?  "  queried  Helen. 

"  Yesterday,"  he  explained,  "  I  heard  Al  talking 
to  her  down  to  the  stable.  He  does  talk  to  a  horse 
mor'n  any  man  I  know,  and  what's  more  they  talk 
back  to  him.  'S  a  fact,  miss.  And  what  he  said  was, 
*  Helen,  you  little  black  devil,  I  wouldn't  sell  you 
for  a  couple  million  dollars;  no,  not  now.'  Calling 
her  Helen,  understand?" 

"  Well?"  asked  the  other  Helen. 

"  And,"  went  on  Chuck  Evans,  "  that  mare's  been 
on  the  ranch  six  months  and  never  did  I  hear  him 
call  her  another  thing  than  Sanchia." 


Helen  Knew 

"Sanchia?"  she  repeated  after  him.  "What  a 
pretty  name !  "  And  then,  more  innocently  than 
ever,  "  I  don't  think  I  ever  heard  the  name  before. 
She  was  named  after  somebody,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Sure,"  laughed  Chuck.  "  After  a  certain  lady 
known  in  these  parts  as  Mrs.  Murray.  Her  name 
is  Sanchia. " 

"  Oh !  "  said  Helen. 

"  And,"  continued  Chuck,  "  that  ain't  all.  This 
morning,  just  like  he  knew  folks  was  going  to  ask 
her  name,  he  tells  me:  '  Say,  Chuck;  this  here 
mare's  name,  if  anyone  asks  you,  is  Sweetheart. 
Don't  it  just  suit  her?5  he  says.  And  when  you 
come  right  down  to  it — " 

"Hey,  Chuck,"  called  Tod  Barstow  from  his 
high  seat.  "  Get  a  move  on.  We  better  get  started 
before  it's  hot." 

So  Chuck  Evans  departed  and  Helen  sat  straight 
in  the  saddle,  her  eyes  a  little  puzzled.  When  her 
father  rode  to  her  .side  she  was  adjusting  a  blue 
bird's  feather  in  her  hatband.  The  feather,  point 
ing  straight  up,  gave  a  stiff,  almost  haughty  look  to 
the  young  woman's  headgear. 

They  crossed  the  big  meadow,  wound  for  an  hour 
among  the  little  hills  and  then  began  a  slow  gradual 
climb  along  a  devious  dusty  road.  Less  and  ever 
less  fertile  grew  the  dry  earth  under  them,  more 
still  and  hot  and  hostile  the  land  into  which  they 
journeyed.  In  three  hours,  jogging  along,  they 
came  to  Last  Ridge. 

*  There's  only  one  spot  up  this  way  that's  fit  to 
live  in  for  more'n  an  hour  at  the  stretch,"  Barstow 
told  them.  "  There's  a  spring  and  some  shade 

99 


Desert  Valley 

there.  We'll  drive  right  under  it,  and  from  there 
up  we'll  have  to  finish  the  job  monkey-style." 

He  stopped  his  horses  in  a  little  flat,  just  under 
a  steep  wall  of  reddish  cliff.  Here  he  and  Chuck 
Evans  unhitched  and  here  the  horses  were  tethered. 
Helen  looked  about  her  curiously,  and  at  first  her 
heart  sank.  There  was  nothing  to  greet  her  but 
rock  and  sweltering  patches  of  sand  and  gravelly 
soil  and  sparse,  harsh  brush.  She  turned  and 
looked  back  toward  the  sweep  of  Desert  Valley; 
there  she  saw  green  fields,  trees,  grazing  stock.  It 
was  like  the  Promised  Land  compared  with  this 
bleak  desolate  spot  her  father  had  chosen.  She 
turned  to  him,  words  of  expostulation  forming.  But 
his  eyes  were  bright,  his  look  triumphant.  He  had 
already  dismounted  and  was  poking  about  here  and 
there,  examining  everything  at  hand  from  a  sand 
stone  stratum  at  the  cliff's  foot  to  loose  dirt  in  the 
drifts  and  the  hardy,  wiry  grass  growing  where  it 
could.  Helen  turned  away  with  a  sigh. 

From  here  the  two  Desert  Valley  men  went  for 
ward  on  foot  to  show  them  the  spot  which  Alan 
Howard  had  chosen  as  the  most  likely  site  for  a 
camp.  They  walked  to  the  end  of  the  flat  where 
the  reddish  walls  shut  in;  here  was  an  angle  of  cliff 
and  in  the  angle  was  a  cleft  some  three  or  four  feet 
wide.  They  passed  into  this  and  found  that  it 
offered  a  steep,  winding  way  upward.  But  the  dis 
tance  was  not  great  and  in  ten  minutes  they  had 
come  to  the  top.  Here  again  was  a  level  space,  a 
wide  tableland,  offering  less  of  the  desert  menace 
and  hostility  and  something  more  of  charm  and  the 
promise  of  comfort.  For  a  gentle  breeze  stirred 

100 


Helen  Knew 

here,  and  off  yonder  were  scattered  pines  and  cedars 
and  in  a  clump  of  trees  was  a  ring  of  verdure.  They 
went  to  it  and  saw  the  spring.  It  was  but  a  sort 
of  mud-hole  of  yellowish,  thickish  water.  But  water 
it  was,  with  green  grass  growing  about  it  and  with 
the  shade  of  dusty  trees  over  it.  Beyond  were  the 
strange-shaped  uplands,  distant  cliffs  and  peaks 
broken  into  a  thousand  grotesque  forms,  with  bands 
of  color  in  horizontal  strata  across  them  as  though 
they  had  been  painted  with  a  mighty  brush. 

"  What  though  I  have  never  been  here  until  this 
second?  "  cried  Longstreet  triumphantly.  "  I  know 
it,  all  of  it,  every  inch  and  millimeter  of  it !  I  could 
have  made  a  map  of  it  and  laid  the  colors  in.  I 
have  read  of  it,  studied  it — I  have  written  of  this 
country !  Having  been  right  in  everything  else,  am 
I  to  be  mistaken  in  the  matter  of  its  minerals?  I 
said  give  me  three  months  to  find  gold?  Why,  it's 
a  matter  to  wonder  at  if  I  don't  locate  my  mine  in 
three  days !  " 

The  two  men  grinned  readily.  Before  now  they 
had  heard  men  talk  with  the  gold  fever  upon  them. 

"  There's  gold  pretty  near  everywhere,"  admitted 
Barstow,  "  if  a  man  can  make  it  pay.  But  right 
now  I  guess  me  and  Chuck  had  better  start  getting 
your  stuff  up  the  rocks.  Suit  you  all  right  here  for 
a  camp  ?  " 

Helen  turned  and  looked  toward  the  south. 
There,  broad  and  fertile  below  her,  running  away 
across  the  miles,  were  the  Howard  acres.  She 
even  made  out  the  clutter  of  headquarters  buildings. 
Somehow  she  fancied  that  the  sweep  of  homely  view 
snatched  from  these  bleak  uplands  something  of 

IOI 


Desert  Valley 

their  loneliness.  When  her  father  announced  that 
this  was  just  the  spot  he  had  longed  for,  Helen 
nodded  her  approval.  Here  for  a  time  was  to 
be  home. 

Throughout  the  day  and  until  dusk  the  four  of 
them  labored,  making  camp.  Barstow  and  Evans 
lugged  the  various  articles,  boxes,  rolls  of  bedding 
up  through  the  cleft  in  the  rocks.  They  had  brought 
in  the  wagon-bed  some  loose  boards  of  various 
sizes;  these  they  made  into  a  rough  floor.  At 
the  four  corners  of  the  floor  they  erected  studding 
of  two-by-four  lumber.  These  they  braced  and 
steadied;  they  nailed  other  lengths  of  two-by-four 
material  along  the  tops,  outlining  walls ;  they  hacked 
and  sawed  and  hammered  and  nailed  to  such  advan 
tage  that  in  the  end  they  had  the  misshapen  frame 
of  a  cabin,  rafters  and  all.  Then  over  the  rafters 
and  along  the  sides  they  secured  the  canvas  destined 
for  the  purpose.  Doors  and  windows  were  canvas 
flaps;  the  sheet-iron  stove  was  set  up  on  four  flat 
stones  for  legs;  the  stovepipe  was  run  through  a 
hole  in  the  roof.  And  when  Chuck  Evans  and  Tod 
Barstow,  amateurs  in  the  carpenter's  line,  stood 
back  and  wiped  the  sweat  off  their  brown  faces  and 
looked  with  fond  and  prideful  eyes  at  their  handi 
work,  Helen  and  her  father  were  no  whit  less 
delighted. 

"  If  you  want  more  room  after  a  while,"  said 
Barstow,  "  it'd  be  easy  to  tack  more  sheds  on  and 
run  canvas  over  them,  just  the  same  as  what  we 
done.  Me  and  Chuck  would  come  up  most  any  time 
and  lend  a  hand." 

I O2 


Helen  Knew 

The  breeze  stiffened  and  the  crazy  edifice  shiv 
ered. 

"  I  don't  know  as  I'd  make  it  much  bigger,"  said 
Evans.  '*  If  a  real  blow  come  on  and  the  wind  got 
inside. — Say,  Tod,  how  about  a  few  guy  ropes? 
Huh?" 

Barstow  agreed,  and  they  brought  what  ropes 
they  had  in  the  wagon  and  "  staked  her  out,  same 
as  if  she  was  a  runaway  horse,"  as  Chuck  put  it. 
In  other  words,  they  ran  one  rope  from  the  rear 
end  of  the  ridge  of  the  house  to  the  base  of  a  con 
veniently  located  pine  tree;  then  they  secured  the 
second  rope  to  the  other  end  of  the  ridge  pole  and 
anchored  it  to  a  big  boulder.  Meanwhile  Helen 
opened  some  cans  and  made  coffee  on  the  newly 
adjusted  stove  and  they  sat  on  the  grass  by  the 
spring  and  made  their  evening  meal.  After  which 
Barstow  and  Evans  went  down  to  their  wagon 
and  returned  to  Desert  Valley.  And  James 
Edward  Longstreet  and  his  daughter  sat  alone 
upon  their  camp-stools  in  front  of  their  new  abode 
and  looked  off  across  the  valley  and  into  the  dis 
tances. 

The  day  departed  slowly,  lingeringly.  The  soft 
night  came  little  by  little,  a  misty  veil  floating  into 
a  hollow  yonder,  a  star  shining,  the  breeze  strength 
ening  and  cooling.  Before  the  twilight  was  gone 
and  while  one  might  look  for  miles  across  the  bil 
lowing  landscapes,  they  saw  a  horseman  riding  down 
in  the  valley;  he  appeared  hardly  more  than  a  vague 
moving  dot.  And  yet — 

"It's  Mr.  Howard!"  cried  Helen. 
103 


Desert  Valley 

Longstreet  withdrew  his  straining  eyes  and 
turned  them  wonderingly  upon  his  daughter. 

"  How  in  the  world  do  you  know?  "  he  asked. 

Helen  smiled,  a  quiet  smile  of  transcendent 
wisdom. 

"  Oh,  I  just  knew  he'd  come  over,"  she  said. 


104 


CHAPTER  X 
A  WARNING  AND  A  SIGN 

JOHN  CARR  made  a  special  trip  back  to  Desert 
Valley  ranch  for  a  word  with  Howard.  He 
rode  hard  and  there  was  a  look  of  anxiety  in  his 
eyes  when  he  came  upon  his  friend  smoking  thought 
fully  in  the  big  living-room  of  the  ranch  house.  It 
was  late  evening  and  a  week  after  the  departure 
of  Howard's  guests. 

Howard  dragged  his  boot  heels  down  from  the 
table  top  when  he  saw  who  it  was  and  jumped  to 
his  feet,  his  hand  outstretched. 

"  Hello,  John,  old  boy,"  he  cried  warmly. 
"  What's  the  good  wind  blowing  you  over  this 
way  already?  " 

Carr  tossed  his  hat  to  the  table,  drew  up  a  chair 
for  himself  and  took  a  cigar  before  he  answered. 
Then  it  was  quietly  and  earnestly. 

"  Met  up  with  Jim  Courtot  the  other  night,  I 
hear?  "  he  began. 

Howard  nodded  and  waited,  his  look  curious. 

"Well,"  went  on  Carr,  "I  wish  you  hadn't. 
He's  a  treacherous  beast  if  this  man's  land  ever 
cradled  one. — He's  looking  for  you,  Al." 

"  He  knows  where  to  find  me,"  said  Alan  shortly. 
And  then,  "  Just  what's  worrying  you,  Johnnie?  " 

"  I've  known  Jim  for  seventeen  or  eighteen 
years,"  rejoined  Carr.  "  He's  a  cold,  hard,  cal- 

105 


Desert  Valley 

culating  and  absolutely  crooked  proposition.  Dur 
ing  that  time  IVe  never  known  him  to  go  on  a  drunk 
more  than  two  or  three  times.  And  every  time 
there  was  trouble." 

"He's  drinking  now,  then?" 

"  He  started  in  right  after  you  got  through  with 
him  the  other  night.  And  he  has  been  talking. 
There's  no  use  being  a  fool !  "  he  cut  in  sternly  as 
Alan  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Courtot  doesn't 
talk  to  me,  but  I've  got  straight  what  he  has  said. 
He  talks  to  Moraga,  and  Moraga  talks  to  Barbee, 
and  Barbee  passes  it  on  to  me.  He  told  Moraga 
that  if  it  was  the  last  thing  he  did,  he'd  get  you. 
And  he  is  carrying  a  gun  every  step  he  takes." 

'  The  more  a  man  talks,  the  less  killing  he  does, 
I've  noticed,"  said  Howard.  But  his  tone  did  not 
carry  conviction.  Carr  frowned  impatiently. 

"  He  hasn't  talked  much.  He  was  mad  clean 
through  when  he  made  that  crack  to  Moraga.  I  tell 
you  there's  no  use  being  a  fool,  Al." 

"  No.  Guess  you're  right,  John.  Anyway,  it 
was  pretty  decent  of  you  to  ride  over." 

He  got  up  and  went  into  his  bedroom.  A  mo 
ment  later  he  came  out  carrying  a  heavy  Colt  re 
volver  in  one  hand,  a  box  of  cartridges  in  the  other. 
The  gun  was  well  oiled;  the  cylinder  spun  silently 
and  easily;  the  six  chambers  were  loaded.  He  put 
the  gun  down  on  the  table. 

;t  I'll  ride  heeled  for  a  few  days,  anyhow,"  he 
decided.  "  I  guess  I  can  shoot  with  Jim  Courtot 
yet." 

"  Did  you  ever  find  out  for  sure  that  it  was  Jim 
the  other  time?" 

1 06 


A  Warning  and  a  Sign 

"  Sure  enough  to  suit  me/'  returned  Howard. 
"  He  was  in  town  that  night.  And  it  was  his  style 
of  work  to  take  a  pot  shot  at  a  man  out  of  the 
dark." 

"  He's  not  exactly  a  coward,"  warned  Carr. 

"  No,  not  a  coward.  But  that's  his  kind  of  work, 
just  the  same.  He  would  go  after  a  man  just  as 
he  plays  poker — simply  to  win  the  surest,  quickest, 
easiest  way. — Saw  Sanchia  Murray  in  town  the  same 
day  he  was  there.  Are  they  working  together 
again?  " 

"  I  haven't  seen  either  one  of  them.  But  I  guess 
so.  Barbee,  poor  kid,  is  trailing  after  her  all 
the  time,  and  he  comes  back  hating  Courtot 
worse  and  worse  every  day.— Seen  the  Longstreets 
lately?" 

Howard  admitted  that  he  had.  It  was  only  a 
little  way  over,  he  reminded  Carr,  an  hour  and  a 
half  ride  or  such  a  matter,  and  the  old  boy  was 
such  a  helplessly  innocent  old  stranger,  that  it 
didn't  seem  quite  right  to  turn  them  adrift  alto 
gether. 

*  The  girl  is  a  pretty  thing,"  said  Carr. 

^Yes,"  agreed  Howard.     "  Kind  of  pretty." 

Carr  looked  at  him  steadily.  And  for  absolutely 
no  slightest,  vaguest  reason  in  the  wide  world  that 
he  could  think  of,  Alan  Howard  felt  his  face  going 
red.  Carr's  look  probed  deeper.  Then,  with  com 
mon  consent,  they  turned  to  other  subjects  until  bed 
time.  Nothing  of  business  matters  passed  between 
them,  although  both  remembered  that  a  consider 
able  payment  was  to  fall  due  within  ten  days. 

In  particular  Howard  had  cause  to  remember. 
107 


Desert  Valley 

He  had  recently  balanced  his  books  and  had  found 
that  he  had  cut  into  his  last  five  thousand  dollars. 
Therefore,  meaning  to  pay  on  the  nail,  he  had  ar 
ranged  a  sale  of  beef  cattle.  The  range  was  heavily 
stocked,  he  had  a  herd  in  prime  condition,  the 
market  was  fair  and  his  "  system  "  called  for  a  sale 
soon  and  the  purchase  of  some  calves.  Therefore 
the  next  morning,  before  Carr  was  astir,  Howard 
and  several  of  his  men  were  riding  toward  the  more 
remote  fields  where  his  beef  herds  were.  Behind 
them  came  the  camp  wagon  and  the  cook. 

All  day  long  he  worked  among  his  herds  gather 
ing  them,  sorting  them,  cutting  out  and  heading 
back  toward  the  home  corrals  those  under  weight 
or  in  any  way  not  in  the  pink  of  condition  for  the 
sale.  His  men  rode  away  into  the  distances,  going 
east  and  south,  disappearing  over  the  ridges  seeking 
cattle  that  had  strayed  far.  Howard  changed  the 
horse  under  him  four  times  that  day,  and  the  beast 
he  freed  long  after  the  stars  were  out  was  jaded 
and  wet.  In  the  end  he  threw  himself  down  upon 
the  hot  earth  in  the  shade  of  the  wagon  and  turned 
his  eyes  toward  the  uplands  of  the  Last  Ridge.  He 
had  had  no  moment  of  his  own  today,  no  oppor 
tunity  to  ride  for  a  call  on  his  new  friends,  and  now, 
after  he  rested  a  little  and  ate,  he  would  go  back 
to  work  with  his  men,  night-herding .  For  the 
rounded-up  cattle  were  now  a  great  milling  herd  that 
grew  greater  as  the  night  went  on  and  other  lesser 
bands  were  brought  in,  a  stamping,  churning  mass 
whose  deep-lunged  bellowing  surged  out  continuously 
across  the  valley  stretches  and  through  the  passes 
of  the  hills. 

108 


A  Warning  and  a  Sign 

Tomorrow,  thought  Howard,  he  would  ride 
toward  the  Last  Ridge,  taking  it  upon  himself  to 
gather  up  the  straggling  stock  there  and,  purely 
incidentally,  he  would  look  in  upon  the  Longstreets. 
He  had  not  seen  them  for  three  days.  But  the  night 
was  destined  to  bring  events  to  alter  his  plans.  In 
the  first  place  some  of  his  cowboys  whom  he  had 
dispatched  to  outlying  districts  of  the  range  to  round 
up  the  cattle  there  had  not  yet  returned  and  he  and 
his  men  here  were  short-handed  in  their  task  of 
night-herding  the  swelling  numbers  of  restless  Short 
horns.  Howard,  having  had  his  supper,  his  cigarette 
and  his  brief  rest,  was  saddling  his  fifth  horse  to 
take  his  turn  at  a  four-hour  shift,  when  he  was 
aware  that  someone  had  ridden  into  camp.  And 
then  came  a  voice,  shouting  through  the  din  and 
the  dark: 

"Hey,  there.     Where's  Al?" 
"  Here,"  called  Howard.     "  Who  is  it?  " 
"  It's  me,"  and  Barbee  with  jingling  spurs  came 
on.     "  Special  delivery  letter  for  you,  old  timer." 

Letters  came  rarely  to  Desert  Valley,  and 
Howard  expected  none.  But  he  put  out  his  hand 
eagerly;  he  had  no  reason  to  think  such  a  thing,  but 
none  the  less  the  conviction  was  upon  him  that 
Helen  had  written  him.  His  arm  through  his 
horse's  bridle  he  struck  a  match  and  took  into  his 
hand  a  scrap  of  paper.  As  his  peering  eyes  made 
out  a  sweeping,  familiar  scrawl  he  felt  a  disappoint 
ment  quite  as  unreasonable  as  had  been  his  hope. 
It  was  unmistakably  from  the  hand  of  John  Carr 
hastily  written  in  lead  pencil  upon  the  inner  side 
of  an  old  envelope  and  said  briefly: 

109 


Desert  Valley 

"  Better  look  out  for  Courtot,  Al.  He  has  left 
Big  Run  and  is  headed  out  your  way.  John." 

Howard  tore  the  paper  to  bits. 

"Where's  Carr?"  he  asked  quietly.  "  Gone  on 
back?" 

Barbee  chuckled  softly. 

"  He  was  at  your  place  last  night,  wasn't  he? 
Well,  he  headed  back  and  got  as  far  as  Big  Run. 
That's  where  I  saw  him  late  this  afternoon  when 
he  give  me  this  for  you.  About  that  time  I  guess 
he  changed  his  mind  about  going  home  and  shifted 
his  trail.  He's  gone  up  that  way." 

The  vague  sweep  of  Barbee's  arm  indicated  a 
wide  expanse  of  country  lying  to  the  north.  When 
Howard  was  silent,  the  boy  went  on  lightly  and 
perhaps  a  hint  maliciously: 

"  Get  me  ?  Gone  to  see  how  the  professor  and 
his  girl  are  making  out.  Keep  your  eye  peeled,  Al, 
or  he'll  beat  you  to  it.  Old  John's  a  sure  heller 
with  the  women." 

Howard  snapped  out  a  curt  admonition  to  Barbee 
to  mind  his  own  business  and  flung  himself  into  the 
saddle.  As  he  spurred  away  to  the  outer  fringe  of 
his  herd  he  was  not  thinking  overmuch  of  Carr's 
warning;  somehow  Barbee's  stuck  closer'  in  his 
mind.  A  spurt  of  irritation  with  himself. succeeded 
that  first  desire  to  slap  the  message  bearer's  face. 
For  he  knew  within  his  heart  that  he  resented  Carr's 
making  himself  at  home  at  the  Longstreet  camp, 
and  he  knew  that  tonight  he  was  an  unreasonable 
beast.  Had  not  Carr  once  already  ridden  far  out 
of  his  way  to  warn  him?  Was  there  any  reason  in 

IIO 


A  Warning  and  a  Sign 

the  wide  world  why  Carr  should  not  this  time  send 
Barbee  and  himself  ride  on  wherever  it  suited  him 
to  go?  At  that  moment  Howard  would  have  been 
glad  than  otherwise  to  have  Jim  Courtot  present 
himself. 

"  Let  him  start  something,  damn  him,"  he 
growled  savagely  to  himself.  "  Any  time."  And 
he  began  wondering  if  now  John  Carr  were  sitting 
with  Helen  and  her  father  in  front  of  their  little 
home?  Or  if  perhaps  Longstreet  had  gone  in  to 
his  books,  and  Carr  and  Helen  alone,  sitting  quiet 
under  the  spell  of  the  night,  were  looking  out  into 
the  shining  world  of  stars?  He  cursed  himself  for 
a  fool  and  an  ingrate.  Didn't  Carr  have  a  man's 
right  to  ride  where  he  chose?  And  had  he  not 
already  twice  in  twenty-four  hours  shown  how 
clearly  his  thought  and  his  heart  were  with  his 
friend?  A  revolver  knocked  at  Howard's  side;  it 
was  there  because  John  Carr  had  shown  him,  its 
need. 

Howard's  impulse  was  to  stay  away  from  Last 
Ridge  for  a  little  longer.  He  reasoned  that  Carr 
would  be  invited  to  stay  overnight  and  would  nat 
urally  accept  the  invitation.  Why  should  he  not? 
There  is  always  room  in  camp  for  one  more,  and  no 
doubt  both  Helen  and  her  father  would  be  glad  of 
company  to  break  their  monotony  and  loneliness. 
But  before  Howard  had  had  time  for  more  than  an 
impulse  there  came  the  second  episode  of  the  night 
to  set  him  thinking  upon  other  matters. 

As  he  rode  he  heard  several  voices  and  recognized 
them  as  those  of  his  own  men.  One  guffawed  loudly 
and  there  came  the  sound  of  his  big  hand  slapping 

III 


Desert  Valley 

his  leg  in  his  high  delight;  another  swore  roundly 
and  impatiently;  a  third  was  talking  excitedly, 
earnestly.  This  third  was  Sandy  Weaver,  an  old 
hand,  a  little  man  characterized  by  his  gentle  eyes 
and  soft  voice  and  known  across  many  miles  as  an 
individual  in  whom  the  truth  did  not  abide.  All 
up  and  down  these  fringes  of  the  desert  he  was 
known  simply  as  Lying  Sandy. 

"What's  the  excitement,  boys?"  demanded 
Howard. 

Sandy  wheeled  his  horse,  pressing  close  to  his 
employer's  side,  and  burst  into  quick  explanation. 
He  had  been  working  with  Dave  Terril  over  on  the 
east  side;  they  had  found  only  a  handful  of  stock 
there,  and  Sandy  had  left  them  to  Dave,  and  in 
order  to  save  time  for  the  morrow  had  circled  the 
valley  and  combed  over  the  north  end,  under  the 
Last  Ridge  cliffs.  Just  before  dark  he  had  made 
his  discovery.  His  horse  had  found  it  first,  shying 
and  sniffing  and  then  trying  to  bolt;  Sandy  was  noth 
ing  if  not  circumstantial. 

"  We've  got  some  work  to  do  tonight,  Sandy," 
cut  in  Howard  shortly.  "  If  youVe  got  anything 
to  say,  go  to  it." 

"  Haw !  "  gurgled  Bandy  O'Neil,  recently  from 
a  California  outfit,  a  man  with  a  large  sense  of 
mirth.  "  He's  got  his  prize  ring-tailed  dandy 
to  spring,  Al.  Don't  choke  him  off  or  it'll  kill  him." 

Sandy  hearkened  to  neither  of  them,  but  hastened 
on.  He  described  the  hidden  sink  in  a  boulder- 
ringed  draw,  the  difficulty  he  had  had  in  bringing 
his  horse  to  the  scene  and  his  own  stupefaction. 
And  when  he  had  done  all  of  this  with  his  customary 

112 


A  Warning  and  a  Sign 

detail  he  declared  that  he  had  come  upon  a  yearling 
bull,  dead  as  a  door  nail  and  slaughtered  after  a 
fashion  that  made  Sandy's  eyes  widen  in  the  star 
light. 

"  It's  throat  was  just  sure  enough  tore  all  to  hell, 
Al,"  he  said  ponderously.  "  Like  something  the 
size  of  an  elephant  had  gone  after  it.  And  I  says 
to  myself  it  must  of  been  a  wolf,  and  I  go  looking 
for  tracks.  And,  by  the  Lord,  I  found  'em! 
Tracks  like  a  wolf  and  the  size  of  a  dinner 
plate!  And  alongside  them  tracks,  some  other 
tracks.  And  they  was  made  by  a  man  and  he  was 
barefooted!  " 

Bandy  O'Neil's  roar  of  mirth  was  a  sound  to 
hearken  to  joyously  from  afar. 

"  And,"  he  cried,  dabbing  at  his  tears,  "  Sandy 
would  sure  take  a  man  by  the  mit  and  lead  him  to 
the  spot,  only  just  then  a  big  bird,  size  of  half  a 
dozen  ostriches,  flops  down  and  sinks  its  claws  into 
that  there  bull  calf  and  flies  right  straight  over 
the  moon  with  it!  Ain't  that  what  you  said, 
Sandy?" 

"  You're  a  fool,  Bandy  O'Neil,  and  always  will 
be  a  fool,"  muttered  Sandy  Weaver  stiffly.  "  That 
same  calf  is  laying  right  there  now,  and  if  you 
don't  believe  it  or  Al  don't  believe  it,  I'll  bet  you 
a  hundred  bucks  and  show  you  the  place  as  fast 
as  a  horse  can  lay  down  to  it." 

He  ran  on  with  his  tale,  having  the  end  yet  to 
recount.  He  had  headed  his  cattle  down  to  meet 
Dave  Terril;  he  and  Dave  had  swung  in  together 
and  moved  still  further  south  to  herd  in  with  the 
boys  coming  up  from  that  direction;  and  being 


Desert  Valley 

within  striking  distance  of  the  ranch  house,  Sandy 
had  ridden  there  alone. 

"  I  wasn't  sure  but  you  might  be  there,  Al,"  he 
explained.  "  And  I  wanted  to  tell  you  what  I  saw. 
I  rampsed  right  in  and  found  somebody  waiting  for 
you.  Know  who?  " 

"  Carr?  "  suggested  Howard. 

"  No,  it  wasn't.  It  was  Jim  Courtot.  There 
wasn't  anybody  at  the  house  but  old  Angela  and  the 
Mex  kid,  and  they  let  him  in.  He  was  setting  there 
waiting,  and  when  I  went  in  the  door  he  come  up 
standing  and  he  had  his  gun  in  his  hand  and  it  was 
cocked.  And,  Al,  he  looked  mean." 

There  was  a  pause  and  a  silence.  Sandy  Weaver 
might  be  lying,  and  then  again  he  might  not. 

"  I  got  nothing  against  Jim,  a»nd  it  didn't  drop  on 
me  right  then  that  he  was  out  to  start  a  row.  And, 
being  full  of  what  I  saw  up  there,  I  spilled  him 
the  yarn.  And  I  wish  you  could  have  had  a  look 
into  that  man's  face !  He's  no  albino  to  speak  on, 
and  yet  when  I  got  halfway  through  he  looked  it. 
His  face  was  as  white  as  a  rag  and  his  eyes  bugged 
out  like  he  was  scared  and  the  sweat  come  out  on 
his  head  and  all  over,  I  guess,  and  he  kept  looking 
over  his  shoulder  all  the  time  like  the  devil  was 
after  him.  And  when  I  showed  him  what  I  found 
on  the  rock  by  the  dead  calf  he  just  asks  me  one 
question.  He  says,  *  Sandy,  what  way  was  them 
tracks  pointed?'  And  when  I  tells  him  it  looked 
like  they  was  pointed  this  way — well,  Jim  was 
gone !  " 

"  You  lying  devil !  "  shouted  Bandy  hilariously. 

But  Howard,  wondering,  demanded: 
114 


A  Warning  and  a  Sign 

"What  was  it  you  found  on  the  rock,  Sandy?" 

Sandy  yanked  it  from  his  pocket.    They  crowded 

closer  and  someone  struck  a  match.     It  was  a  bit 

of  buckskin  and  in  the  buckskin  was  a  little  heap 

of  raw  gold. 


CHAPTER  XI 

SEEKING 

ALAN  HOWARD  got  a  lantern  from  the 
jfVwagon  and  said  briefly  to  Sandy  Weaver: 
"  Show  me  the  place."  For  he  knew  that  for  once 
Weaver  was  not  lying.  When  together  they  came 
to  the  hollow  where  the  dead  calf  lay  he  dis 
mounted,  made  a  light  and  verified  all  that  had 
been  told  him.  He  saw  dimly  the  track  of  the  bare 
human  foot  where  Sandy  had  left  it  undisturbed; 
he  passed  from  that  to  the  other  tracks.  As  his 
cowboy  had  said,  they  resembled  a  wolf's  but  were 
unusually  large.  As  Howard  noted  for  himself,  the 
front  feet  had  made  the  larger,  deeper  imprint;  the 
hind  tracks  were  narrower,  longer,  less  clearly  de 
fined. 

"  It  carries  the  bulk  of  its  weight  up  forward," 
he  said  thoughtfully.  "  It  would  be  heavy-chested, 
big-shouldered,  slim  in  the  barrel  and  small  in  the 
hips.  And  it  is  the  same  It  that  made  those  other 
tracks  by  Superstition  Pool — where  some  gent  was 
scared  half  out  of  his  hide  and  clean  out  of  any 
desire  to  linger  or  eat  supper." 

"What's  all  that?"  demanded  Sandy.  "  Seen 
tracks  like  that  before?  " 

Howard  nodded  and  went  back  to  his  horse  in 
silence.  And  silent  he  remained  during  the  ride 
back  to  camp,  despite  Sandy's  chatter.  For  already 

116 


Seeking 

he  had  a  vague  theory  and  he  was  seeking  stub 
bornly  to  render  that  theory  less  vague.  When  they 
had  ridden  back  to  the  herd  he  singled  out  Chuck 
Evans  and  moved  with  him  out  of  hearing  of  the 
others. 

"  Chuck,"  he  said  soberly,  "  I've  got  a  job  for 
you.  I've  got  to  go  on  with  the  herd  to  San  Juan 
and  I  don't  know  just  when  I'll  be  back.  Tomorrow 
you  move  the  extra  horses  up  into  the  hills;  it's  time, 
anyway,  to  feed  off  the  grass  in  the  canons.  And 
I  want  you  to  keep  in  touch  with  the  Longstreets. 
At  nighttime  make  your  camp  within  calling  distance 
of  theirs.  And  keep  your  eyes  and  ears  open." 

"  I  get  you,"  said  Chuck,  "  only  I  don't.  What's 
going  to  hurt  them?" 

"  Nothing  that  I  know  of.  But  I  want  you  on 
the  job.  I  don't  quite  like  the  idea  of  the  old  pro 
fessor  and  his  daughter  being  out  there  alone." 
And  that  was  all  the  explanation  he  gave. 

The  next  afternoon  the  drive  began.  Sitting  a 
little  aside  as  his  men  started  the  slow  procession 
toward  the  San  Juan  trail,  Howard  watched  his 
carefully  bred  cattle  go  by  and  drew  from  the  mo 
ment  a  full  sense  of  success  achieved.  As  they 
crowded  by  in  bellowing  scores  he  estimated  that 
they  were  going  to  net  him  above  ten  thousand  dol 
lars  and  that  every  cent  of  that  ten  thousand  was 
going  to  John  Carr  as  a  worth-while  payment  upon 
Desert  Valley.  From  his  own  funds  in  the  bank 
Howard  would  draw  for  the  purchase  of  his  calves 
and  for  running  expenses.  He  would  be  close- 
hauled  again,  but  he  would  have  earned  a  long 
breathing  spell.  As  the  tail-enders  pushed  by  him 

117 


Desert  Valley 

he  dropped  in  behind  them  to  be  engulfed  in  the 
rising  clouds  of  dust  and  to  do  his  own  part  of  his 
own  work. 

The  wagon  had  gone  ahead  to  the  place  appointed 
for  tonight's  camp.  Since  the  herd  was  large,  while 
days  were  hot  and  water-holes  scarce,  Howard 
had  planned  the  devious  way  by  Middle  Springs, 
Parker's  Gulch,  the  end  of  Antelope  Valley,  across 
the  little  hills  lying  to  the  north  of  Poco  Poco  and 
on  into  San  Juan  by  the  chain  of  mud-holes  where 
the  old  Mexican  corrals  were.  Hence,  he  counted 
upon  being  at  least  four  days  on  the  road  to  San 
Juan.  There  his  responsibilities  should  cease  as 
there  the  buyers  had  promised  to  meet  him,  taking 
the  herd  on  into  the  railroad. 

During  the  days  which  folk>wed  he  was  as  busy 
as  a  man  should  care  to  be,  for  the  task  of  moving 
a  large  herd  across  a  dry  and  baking  country  and 
through  it  all  keeping  the  cattle  in  first-class  condi 
tion,  is  no  small  one.  And  busy  in  mind  was  he 
when  the  stars  were  out  and  camp  was  pitched.  He 
lay  with  his  head  on  his  saddle,  his  pipe  in  his  teeth, 
his  thoughts  withdrawn  from  his  business  of  stock- 
selling  and  centered  elsewhere.  The  second  night 
out  the  boys  noted  a  change  in  Al  Howard;  the  third 
night  they  asked  one  another  "  what  had  come  over 
the  old  man."  For  whereas  formerly  his  had  always 
been  the  gayest  voice  around  the  camp  fire,  his  the 
tongue  to  spin  a  yarn  or  start  a  cowboy  ballad,  now 
he  withdrew  after  a  silent  supper  and  threw  himself 
down  on  the  ground  and  stared  at  the  stars,  his 
thoughts  his  own  behind  the  locked  guard  of  his 
shut  teeth. 

118 


Seeking 

u  He's  figgering  on  something — hard,"  said  Dave 
Terril.  "  Might  be  about  Jim  Courtot." 

"  Or  them  tracks,"  suggested  Sandy  Weaver. 
"  The  barefoot' s  and  the  gigantic  wolf." 

"  Or,"  put  in  a  chuckling  voice  from  the  shadows, 
"  a  girl,  huh?  Having  took  a  good  look  at  old  man 
Longstreet's  girl,  I  wouldn't  blame  Al  overmuch." 

By  the  time  the  adobe  walls  of  picturesque 
San  Juan  swam  into  view  across  the  dry  lands  Alan 
Howard  had  at  least  reshaped  and  clarified  his 
theory  of  the  tracks,  had  made  up  his  mind  concern 
ing  Jim  Courtot  and  had  dreamed  through  many  an 
hour  of  Helen.  As  to  Helen,  he  meant  to  see  a 
very  great  deal  of  her  when  he  returned  to  Desert 
Valley.  As  to  Jim  Courtot,  he  meant  to  end  mat 
ters  one  way  or  another  without  any  great  delay. 
For  to  a  man  of  the  type  of  Alan  Howard  the 
present  condition  was  unbearable.  He  knew  that 
Courtot  was  "  looking  for  him  " ;  that  Courtot  had 
gone  straight  to  the  ranch  house  and  had  sat  down 
with  his  gun  in  front  of  him,  waiting  for  Howard's 
step  on  the  porch;  that  when  the  first  opportunity 
arose  Jim  Courtot  would  start  shooting.  It  was  not 
to  his  liking  that  Courtot  should  have  things  all  his 
way.  The  gambler  would  shoot  from  the  dark,  as 
he  had  done  before,  if  he  had  the  chance.  That 
chance  might  come  tonight  or  a  year  from  now  and 
constant  expectancy  of  this  sort  would,  soon  or  late, 
get  on  a  man's  nerves.  In  short,  if  Courtot  wanted 
to  start  something,  Howard  fully  meant  to  have  it 
an  even  break;  if  Courtot  were  looking  for  him 
he  could  expedite  matters  by  looking  for  Courtot. 

As  to  his  theory  of  the  tracks :  he  connected  them, 
[119 


Desert  Valley 

too,  with  Jim  Courtot.  He  knew  that  for  the  past 
three  months  Courtot  had  disappeared  from  his 
familiar  haunts;  these  were  La  Casa  Blanca,  Jim 
Galloway's  gambling-house  in  San  Juan,  and  similar 
places  in  Tecolote,  Big  Run,  Dos  Hermanos  and 
San  Ramon.  He  knew  that  only  recently,  within  the 
week,  Courtot  had  returned  from  his  pilgrimage; 
that  he  had  come  up  to  Big  Run  from  King  Canon 
way.  He  knew  that  the  man  who  had  fled  Supersti 
tion  Pool  had  turned  out  in  the  direction  of  King 
Canon,  and  that  that  man  might  or  might  not  have 
been  Jim  Courtot.  Finally,  he  had  Sandy  Weaver's 
word  for  it  that  Courtot  went  deathly-white  when 
he  heard  of  the  slain  calf  and  the  tracks,  and  that 
forthwith  Courtot  had  again  disappeared.  The  im 
print  of  a  man's  bare  foot  spelled  an  Indian  from 
the  northern  wastes,  and  Courtot,  during  the  three 
months  of  his  disappearance,  had  had  ample  time 
to  go  far  into  the  north.  To  Howard  it  seemed  a 
simple  thing  to  imagine  that  Courtot  had  committed 
some  deed  which  had  brought  after  him  the  un 
sleeping  vengeance  of  a  desert  Indian. 

In  San  Juan  Howard  found  a  representative  of 
Doan,  Rockwell  and  Haight,  the  cattle  buyers,  await 
ing  him;  and  the  same  day  the  deal  was  completed, 
a  check  placed  in  his  hands  and  the  cattle  turned 
over  to  the  buyers'  drivers.  His  men  he  dismissed 
to  their  own  devices,  knowing  that  they  would 
amuse  themselves  in  San  Juan,  perhaps  stir  up  a 
fight  with  a  crowd  of  miners,  and  thereafter  journey 
homeward,  fully  content.  They  were  not  to  wait 
for  him,  as  he  had  business  to  delay  him  a  day  or 
so.  From  the  corrals  he  went  to  the  bank,  placing 

1 20 


Seeking 

his  check  for  collection  with  his  old  friend,  John 
Engle.  Thereafter,  while  his  horse  rested  and  en 
joyed  its  barley  at  the  stables,  he  turned  to  the  Casa 
Blanca.  For  it  was  always  possible  that  Jim  Courtot 
was  there. 

As  he  stepped  in  at  the  deep,  wide  doorway 
Howard's  hat  was  low-drawn,  its  brim  shading  his 
eyes,  and  he  was  ready  to  step  swiftly  to  right  or 
left,  to  spring  forward  or  back,  to  shoot  quickly  if 
shooting  were  in  the  cards.  But  he  knew  upon  the 
moment  that  Courtot  was  not  here.  At  the  bar  were 
his  own  men  ranged  up  thirstily;  they  saw  him 
and  called  to  him  and  had  no  warning  to  give. 
So  he  passed  on  down  the  long  room  until  he 
stopped  at  a  little  table  where  three  men  sat. 
One  of  them,  a  thick,  squat  fellow  with  a  florid 
face  and  small  mean  eyes,  looked  up  at  him  and 
glowered. 

"Where's  Courtot,  Yates?"  asked  Howard 
coolly. 

Yates  stared  and  finally  shrugged 

"  Left  town  day  before  yesterday,"  he  replied 
shortly. 

"  So  he  was  here  ?  I  heard  he  wanted  to  see 
me.  Know  which  way  he  has  gone?" 

Yates  studied  him  keenly.  Then  again  he  lifted 
his  ponderous  shoulders. 

"  He  was  looking  for  you,"  he  said,  his  meaning 
clear  in  the  hardness  of  his  eyes.  "  And,  if  you 
want  to  know,  he's  up  Las  Palmas  way." 

'*  That  happens  to  be  lucky,"  Alan  told  him,  turn 
ing  away.  "  I'm  going  up  there  now  to  look  at  some 
calves  in  French  Valley.  If  I  happen  to  miss  him 

121 


Desert  Valley 

and  you  see  him  you  can  tell  him  for  me  that  I'm 
ready  to  talk  with  him  any  time.1' 

He  went  out  in  dead  silence.  Many  eyes  followed 
him,  many  eyes  which  when  his  tall  form  had  passed 
through  the  door  came  back  to  other  eyes  narrowed 
and  thoughtful.  For  Alan  Howard  was  well  known 
here  in  San  Juan,  and  never  before  had  a  man  of 
them  seen  him  wearing  a  gun  at  his  hip.  There 
were  bets  offered  and  taken  before  he  was  halfway 
to  the  stable.  His  own  men,  hearing,  were  thought 
ful  and  said  nothing.  All  except  Bandy  O'Neil, 
who  smashed  his  big  fist  on  the  bar  and  stared 
angrily  into  the  florid  face  of  Yates  and  cried  out 
loudly  that  Jim  Courtot  was  a  card  sharp  and  a 
crook  and  that  Jim  Courtot' s  friends  were  as  Jim 
Courtot.  Yates  for  the  third  time  shrugged  his 
thick  shoulders.  But  his  look  was  like  a  knife  clash 
ing  with  the  cowboy's. 

Though  it  was  dusk  when  he  resaddled  and  Las 
Palmas  was  twenty-five  miles  away,  Howard's  im 
patience  hastened  him  on.  It  appeared  that  Courtot 
had  made  up  his  mind  and,  further,  was  publishing 
the  fact  across  a  wide  sweep  of  country.  Then 
there  was  no  going  back  for  him  and  Courtot,  and 
like  a  man  borne  along  in  a  swift  current  which 
offered  rapids  ahead,  he  was  afire  to  get  them  be 
hind  him.  If  Courtot  were  still  in  Las  Palmas  he 
would  find  him  tonight. 

But  again,  at  the  end  of  a  tedious  ride,  he  learned 
that  the  man  he  sought  had  come  and  gone.  No 
one  knew  just  where,  but  at  the  one  lodging-house 
which  the  little  settlement  possessed  it  was  hinted 
that  Courtot  had  headed  still  further  north,  perhaps 

122 


Seeking 

to  Los  Robles.  Howard  went  to  bed  that  night 
wondering  what  it  was  that  impelled  the  gambler 
to  this  hurried  traveling  across  the  land.  Was  it 
something  that  lured  and  beckoned?  Was  it  some 
thing  that  drove  and  harassed?  His  last  thoughts 
were  of  the  tracks  he  had  seen  by  a  dead  calf  and 
of  the  tale  Sandy  Weaver  had  told. 

Early  the  next  morning  he  rode  out  to  French 
Valley  for  a  look  at  Tony  Vaca's  calves.  They 
proved  to  be  about  what  he  had  expected  of  them, 
close  to  a  hundred,  of  mixed  breeding  but  for  the 
most  part  good  beef-making  stock  in  fair  condition 
and  all  under  a  year  old.  Vaca  was  short  of  pas 
ture  this  year,  hence,  he  declared,  forced  to  sell  at 
a  bargain.  Howard  nodded  gravely,  considered 
briefly,  and  in  ten  minutes  bought  the  herd,  agreeing 
to  take  them  at  ten  per  cent  less  than  Tony's  bar 
gain  price  provided  they  were  delivered  in  Desert 
Valley  within  a  week. 

*  Now  all  of  his  business  of  buying  and  selling  was 
done  and  there  remained  but  to  go  home  or  to  look 
further  for  Courtot.  He  rode  back  into  Las  Palmas 
and  breakfasted  at  the  lunch  counter.  There  he 
learned  that  Courtot  had  probably  gone  on  up  to 
Quigley,  another  twenty-five  miles  to  the  northeast. 
And,  very  largely  because  of  the  geographical  loca 
tion  of  Quigley,  Howard  decided  on  the  instant  to 
continue  at  least  that  far  his  quest.  For,  coming 
the  way  he  had  from  his  ranch,  he  had  described 
a  wide  arc,  almost  a  semicircle,  and  by  the  same 
trail,  should  he  retrace  it,  was  a  hundred  and 
fifty  miles  from  Desert  Valley.  But,  if  he  went 
on  to  Quigley,  a  mining-town  in  the  bare  mountains, 


Desert  Valley 

he  would  be  at  the  mouth  of  Quigley  Pass,  which  led 
to  a  little-used  trail  through  the  mountains  and 
almost  in  a  straight  line  across  the  arm  of  the  desert 
known  locally  as  the  Bad  Lands.  Though  he  had 
never  crossed  these  weary,  empty  miles  and  though 
there  were  no  towns  and  few  water-holes  within  their 
blistered  scope,  Howard  judged  that  he  could  save 
close  to  fifty  miles  of  the  return  trip.  So  he  slipped 
his  foot  into  the  stirrup  and  swung  out  toward 
Quigley,  hopeful  of  finding  Courtot  and  confident  of 
a  short  cut  home. 


124 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  DESERT  SUPREME 

/CONSIDERABLY  to  his  surprise  Howard 
\^l  found  absolutely  no  trace  of  Courtot  in 
Quigley.  He  inquired  at  the  pool  room,  at  the 
restaurant,  at  the  stable.  No  one  had  seen  the 
gambler  for  several  months.  It  struck  the  cattle 
man  as  strange  that  a  man  should  have  ridden  out 
of  Las  Palmas,  taking  the  Quigley  trail,  and  not 
have  come  to  Quigley.  Where  else  could  a  man 
go?  On  the  west  lay  the  desert,  on  the  east  the 
Lava  Mountains  and  beyond  the  desert  again,  and 
it  was  a  far  call  to  any  settlement  or  habitation. 
Even  the  sheepmen  did  not  come  up  this  way;  only 
the  Quigley  mines  brought  men  here,  and  yet 
Courtot  had  not  come  to  Quigley. 

"  He  turned  out  somewhere, "  mused  Howard. 
"  The  Lord  knows  what  for  or  where.  But  it's  his 
business,  and  I'm  going  home." 

He  gave  his  horse  an  hour  in  the  stable  while  he 
himself  made  ready  for  his  short  cut  across  the  Bad 
Lands.  The  preparations  were  simple;  at  the  store 
he  bought  a  small  pack  of  provisions,  enough  to  last 
him  three  or  four  days  at  a  pinch  and  in  case  of 
accidents;  he  filled  his  canteen;  he  spent  half  an 
hour  with  the  grizzled  old  storekeeper,  who  in  his 
time  had  been  a  prospector  and  who  knew  the  coun 
try  hereabouts  as  only  an  old  prospector  could 

125 


Desert  Valley 

know  it.  On  a  bit  of  wrapping-paper  the  old  fel 
low  sketched  a  trail  map  that  indicated  the  start 
through  the  Pass,  the  general  direction  and  the  chief 
landmarks,  the  approximate  mileage  and — here  he 
was  very  exact  and  accompanied  his  sketch  with  full 
verbal  instructions — the  few  water-holes. 

4  You  can  make  it  all  right,  Al,"  he  said  when 
Howard  slipped  the  paper  into  his  vest  pocket. 
"  It's  no  trick  for  a  man  like  you.  But  I  wouldn't, 
send  a  tenderfoot  in  there,  not  unless  I  wanted  to 
make  him  over  into  a  dead  tenderfoot.  And,  mind 
you,  every  year  some  of  them  water-holes  dries  up ; 
the  only  ones  you  can  count  on  for  sure  are  the  ones 
I've  marked  with  a  double  ring  that  way.  So  long." 

"  So  long,"  said  Alan,  and  went  for  his  horse. 

The  forenoon  was  well  advanced  when  he  rode 
into  the  mouth  of  the  narrow  pass  which  gives 
access,  above  the  mines,  into  the  Lava  Mountains 
and  through  them  into  the  Bad  Lands.  In  twenty 
minutes  he  had  entered  a  country  entirely  new  to 
him.  He  looked  about  him  with  interested  eyes. 
Never,  he  thought  as  he  pushed  forward,  had  he 
known  until  now  the  look  of  utter  desolation.  The 
mountain  flanks  were  strewn  with  black  blocks  and 
boulders  of  broken  lava  and  were  already  incredibly 
hot;  underfoot  was  parched  earth  upon  which  it 
seemed  that  not  even  the  hardiest  of  desert  grasses 
cared  to  grow;  yonder  the  Bad  Lands  stretched 
endlessly  before  him,  blistering  mounds  of  rock, 
wind-drifted  stretches  of  burning  sand,  dry  gulches 
and  gorges  which  one's  wildest  imagining  could  not 
fill  with  rushing  waters.  Here  and  there  were 
growing  things,  but  they  were  grey  with  desert  dust 

126 


The  Desert  Supreme 

and  looked  dead,  greasewood  dwarfed  and  wind- 
twisted,  iron-fanged  cacti  snarling  at  the  clear  hot 
sky  and  casting  no  more  shade  than  lean  poles. 

"  A  man  won't  find  his  trail  all  cluttered  up  with 
folks  in  here,"  thought  Howard.  "  Wonder  who 
was  the  last  man  to  poke  his  fool  nose  into  this  bake- 
oven?  Whew,  it's  hot." 

Hotter  it  grew  and  dryer  and,  though  such  a 
thing  had  not  seemed  possible,  altogether  more  re 
pellent  and  hostile  to  life.  He  climbed  a  ridge  to 
get  his  bearings  and  to  locate  in  the  grey  distance 
the  black  peak  which  the  storekeeper  had  indicated 
on  his  map  as  the  first  landmark  and  steering-point. 
He  found  it  readily  enough,  a  dozen  miles  off  to 
the  southwest,  and  jogged  down  the  gentle  slope 
toward  it,  his  hat  drawn  low  to  shield  his  burning 
eyes.  Within  an  hour  the  impression  obtruded 
itself  upon  his  fancy  that  about  him  the  world  was 
dead.  He  did  not  see  a  jack-rabbit  or  a  slinking 
coyote  or  a  bird;  not  even  a  buzzard,  that  all  but 
ubiquitous,  heat-defying  bundle  of  dry  feathers  and 
bones,  hung  in  the  sky.  Why  should  a  rabbit  come 
hither  where  there  was  no  herbage?  Why  a  coyote 
when  his  prey  shunned  these  wastes?  Why  even  the 
winged  scavenger  when  all  animal  life  fled  the  Bad 
Lands?  The  man's  spirit  was  oppressed  and 
drooped  under  the  weariness  of  the  weary  land. 

It  was  a  tedious  day  and  more  than  -once  he  re 
gretted  that  he  had  taken  this  trail,  for  it  seemed 
likely,  as  is  so  often  the  case,  that  the  long  way 
round  was  the  short  way  home.  But  he  was  in  for 
it,  and  plugged  ahead,  longing  for  the  cool  of  eve 
ning.  About  noon  he  found  the  first  water-hole  and, 

127 


Desert  Valley 

what  was  more,  found  water  in  it.  It  was  ugly,  hot 
stuff,  but  his  horse  trotted  to  it  with  ears  pricked 
forward  and  nostrils  atwitch  and  drank  long  and 
thirstily.  Thereafter,  though  they  came  to  other 
spots  where  there  should  be  water  they  found  none 
until  after  sunset.  Howard  drew  off  the  saddle, 
gave  his  horse  a  handful  of  barley  and  staked  it 
out  close  to  the  spring.  Then  he  made  his  own 
dinner,  had  his  smoke  and  threw  himself  down  for 
a  couple  of  hours'  rest  and  dozing.  It  was  his  in 
tention  to  travel  on  in  the  night  to  the  next  spring, 
which  was  some  ten  miles  further  on  and  which, 
because  of  its  location  in  the  center  of  a  cluster  of 
hills  already  clear  against  the  sky  line,  he  was  sure 
he  could  not  miss.  It  was  one  of  the  map's  double- 
ringed  water-holes. 

His  horse  finished  its  drink  and  its  barley.  He 
heard  it  shake  itself  as  a  horse  does  after  its  sweaty 
work  is  done.  Without  turning  his  head  he  knew 
where  it  was  going  to  lie  down  for  a  roll.  Now 
he  did  turn  a  little,  seeing  through  the  coming  dim 
ness  of  night  the  four  legs  waving  in  air  as  the  beast 
struggled  to  turn  over  on  its  back.  It  was  a  new 
horse,  one  he  had  purchased  some  weeks  ago  with 
a  number  of  others  and  had  not  ridden  until  now; 
he  recalled  how,  when  a  boy,  he  had  shared  other 
youngsters'  superstition  in  connection  with  a  horse 
rolling.  If  it  went  clean  over,  it  was  worth  a  hun 
dred  dollars,  if  it  rolled  back,  another  hundred  and 
so  on. 

But  this  animal  did  not  complete  the  one  effort. 
Howard  heard  its  sudden  terrified  snort,  saw  it 
scramble  wildly  to  its  feet  and  go  plunging  off  to 

128 


The  Desert  Supreme 

the  end  of  its  tether,  knew  that  even  the  strong  rope 
had  broken  and  the  horse  was  running  wild.  And 
as  the  man  jumped  to  his  feet  he  knew  why.  For 
before  the  snort  of  fear  he  had  heard  another 
sound,  one  indescribable  to  him  who  has  not  heard 
it  and  unforgettable  and  on  the  instant  recognizable 
to  him  who  has;  that  quiet  noise  resembling  as  much 
as  anything  else  the  harsh  rustling  of  dead,  bone-dry 
leaves.  As  he  ran  forward  Howard  prayed  in  his 
heart  that  the  snake's  fangs  had  not  met  in  horse 
flesh. 

Because  the  light  was  not  all  gone  and  he  knew 
just  where  to  look,  he  saw  the  rattler  slipping  away 
across  the  sand.  He  thrust  his  gun  down  as  close 
as  he  dared  and  with  the  first  shot  blew  the  sinister, 
flat  head  off  the  ugly  thick  body.  Then  he  went  for 
ward,  calling  soothingly  to  his  horse. 

Had  it  been  any  one  of  the  horses  he  rode  cus 
tomarily  his  voice  might  have  carried  something  of 
quiet  to  startled  nerves.  But  as  it  was  the  horse 
was  frightened,  it  was  free,  it  was  running  and  the 
broken  end  of  the  tie-rope,  whipping  at  its  heels, 
put  fresh  terror  into  it.  Howard  saw  it  dimly  as 
it  crested  a  ridge  a  few  hundred  yards  off;  then  its 
vague  shape  was  gone,  swallowed  up  in  the  night. 
He  hurried  after  it  over  the  ridge.  The  stars 
showed  him  empty  spaces  of  billowy  sand;  there 
were  black  spots  marking  hollows  and  nowhere  his 
horse.  But  yet  he  went  forward  hopefully  or  at 
least  striving  to  retain  his  hope.  He  had  little 
liking  for  the  plight  that  would  be  his  were  he  set 
afoot  here  in  the  heart  of  the  Bad  Lands.  But  at 
the  end  of  upwards  of  an  hour  of  fruitless  search 

129 


Desert  Valley 

he  went  back  to  the  water-hole  and  his  traps,  seeing 
the  folly  of  further  seeking  now.  He  would  have 
to  camp  here  until  daybreak.  Tomorrow  he  might 
find  his  horse  and  might  or  might  not  recapture 
it;  tomorrow  he  might  see  the  poor  beast  lying  dead 
and  horribly  swollen;  tomorrow  he  might  find  in 
the  empty  desert  nothing  but  emptiness.  Tonight 
there  was  nothing  better  to  do  than  make  his  bed 
and  go  to  sleep  under  the  stars  and  thank  God  for 
food  and  water. 

At  the  first  pale  glint  of  the  new  day  he  was  astir. 
With  sleep  still  heavy  in  his  eyes  he  hurried  back 
to  the  ridge  over  which  his  horse  had  gone.  As  he 
was  pretty  well  prepared  to  expect,  there  was  no 
horse  in  sight.  He  waited  for  the  light  to  brighten, 
probing  with  eager  eyes  into  the  distances.  Swiftly 
the  sky  filled  to  the  coming  day;  the  shadows  with 
drew  from  the  hollows,  the  earth  stood  forth,  naked 
and  clearly  revealed.  Save  for  himself,  feeling 
dwarfed  in  this  immensity,  there  was  no  living  thing 
within  the  scope  of  his  vision.  He  shook  his  head 
and  turned  back  to  camp  and  breakfast,  frowning 
grimly.  He  would  have  to  walk  out  of  this  mess, 
and  like  any  twelve  cattlemen  out  of  a  dozen  he  had 
little  love  of  walking. 

While  he  ate  his  morning  meal  he  turned  matters 
over  in  his  mind.  He  saw  that  he  could  look  for 
ward  confidently  to  a  couple  of  unpleasant  days. 
He  did  not  anticipate  any  difficulty  beyond  that  of 
the  irksomeness  of  being  obliged  to  trudge  some 
thing  like  fifty  miles  in  the  sun.  He  knew  that  he 
would  waste  no  end  of  time  trying  to  track  the 
vanished  horse  across  such  a  land  as  this;  he  saw 

130 


The  Desert  Supreme 

only  foolhardiness  in  leaving  the  trail  he  had  had 
picked  out  for  him  and,  with  little  food  and  no 
knowledge  of  water,  turning  out  across  an  utterly 
unknown  land  of  forbidding  desolation.  He  judged 
roughly  that  Desert  Valley  was  as  near  as  Quigley. 
Hence,  having  filled  his  canteen  and  tied  his  pro 
visions  into  a  bundle,  he  slung  the  two  over  his 
shoulders,  left  his  saddle  where  it  was  and  turned 
his  face  toward  the  home  range. 

Despite  his  determination  to  get  an  ugly  task  over 
and  done  with,  he  was  a  full  four  hours  making  the 
first  ten  miles.  He  walked  as  swiftly  as  he  might 
to  take  the  full  advantage  of  the  lesser  heat  of  the 
earlier  hours,  but  his  way  led  him  through  loose 
sand,  down  into  cuts  and  gorges,  up  their  steep 
sides,  across  fields  of  loose  stones,  which,  shifting 
underfoot,  made  his  striving  for  haste  a  pure  work 
of  Tantalus.  At  the  end  of  the  first  hour  the  heat 
was  already  intense;  at  the  end  of  the  second  he 
felt  that  his  skin  was  as  dry  as  the  desert  sands  and 
that  the  moisture  of  his  body  was  being  sucked  out 
of  it  by  the  thirsty  air  and  that  at  every  stride  the 
day  grew  drier  and  hotter.  Thirst  clutched  his 
throat,  ached  throughout  his  body,  that  thirst  which 
is  like  no  other,  desert  thirst.  Again  and  again  he 
drank  from  his  canteen.  When  he  plowed  up  the 
slope  of  the  little  hills  and  then  down  into  their  hol 
low  to  the  double-ringed  spring,  his  canteen  was 
half  empty.  And  when  at  last  he  came  to  the  spring 
itself  he  found  it  as  dry  as  a  last  year's  seedpod. 

Until  this  instant  the  day's  adventure  had  been 
merely  the  acme  of  unpleasantness.  Now  something 
more  sinister  entered  into  it.  He  made  certain  that 

,131 


Desert  Valley 

he  had  found  the  place  where  the  water-hole  should 
be.  When  he  sat  down  his  eyes  were  very  grave. 

"  If  I  don't  play  this  hand  right,"  he  told  him 
self  solemnly,  "  I'll  never  get  out  of  this." 

He  found  a  few  breast-high  bushes  and  crawled 
into  their  thin  shade  and  lay  down;  before  him  he 
spread  out  the  Quigley  storekeeper's  map.  This  he 
studied  with  thoughtful  eyes.  The  storekeeper  had 
said  it  would  be  no  trick  at  all  for  a  man  like 
Howard  to  make  the  trip,  but  he  had  meant 
Howard  on  horseback.  On  foot  it  became  quite 
another  matter.  The  next  spot  where  he  should 
find  water  was  some  twenty  miles  ahead  of  him;  at 
the  rate  he  had  traveled  this  morning  it  would  take 
him  some  eight  hours  to  come  to  it.  Further,  at 
the  rate  he  had  drunk  from  his  canteen  this  morn 
ing,  that  canteen  would  be  empty  when  he  had  gone 
half  the  distance.  Clearly,  he  must  drink  less  water, 
just  half  what  he  had  drunk  during  the  last  four 
hours.  Clearly  also,  it  would  grow  hotter  and  he 
would  want  more  instead  of  less  water.  Clearly 
again — and  here  was  the  point  of  points — when  he 
came  to  the  twenty-mile-distant  water-hole,  it  too 
might  be  dry.  And,  after  that,  there  was  not 
another  spring  for  another  twelve  or  fifteen  miles. 
Yes,  many  things  were  clear. 

He  sat  up  and  rolled  a  cigarette ;  he  sat  still  while 
he  smoked  it.  Here  was  plainly  a  time  for  cool 
thinking;  he  would  take  all  of  the  time  that  he 
needed  to  be  sure  that  he  had  decided  correctly. 
For  later  there  might  be  no  minute  to  squander.  At 
present  he  had  both  food  and  water.  At  present 
he  could  go  on  or  turn  back.  There  was  water 

132 


The  Desert  Supreme 

where  he  had  left  his  saddle ;  he  could  count  on  that 
positively  and  could  get  to  it  before  he  had  emptied 
his  canteen.  But,  if  instead  he  went  forward,  there 
could  be  no  turning  back.  He  studied  his  map 
again.  So  far  as  he  could  make  out  from  it,  it  was 
as  well  to  go  on  as  to  retreat.  So,  putting  his  paper 
into  his  pocket,  he  took  up  his  food  and  water,  made 
certain  of  his  bearings  and  went  on.  It  was  a 
gamble,  but  a  gamble  his  life  had  always  been  and 
a  fair  gamble,  an  even  break,  is  all  that  men  like 
Alan  Howard  ask.  He  realized  with  a  full  measure 
of  grimness  that  never  until  now  had  he  placed  a 
wager  like  this  one;  he  was  betting  heavily  and  he 
knew  not  against  what  odds  that  at  the  end  of 
twenty  miles  he  would  find  water. 

Hour  after  hour  he  trudged  on.  His  feet  burned; 
they  ached;  his  boots  made  blisters  and  the  blisters 
broke.  Always  he  was  thirsty  with  a  thirst  which 
his  whole  supply  of  water  could  not  have  slacked 
and  which  grew  steadily  more  acute.  Now  and  then 
he  paused  briefly  and  drank  sparingly.  His  bundle 
of  food,  small  as  it  was,  grew  heavy;  his  feet  were 
heavy;  only  his  canteen  seemed  to  him  lighter  and 
lighter.  A  hot  wind  rose,  blowing  direct  into  his 
face,  flinging  at  him  fine  particles  of  burning  sand 
that  sifted  through  his  clothing  and  got  into  his 
boots,  torturing  further  his  tortured  feet;  the  wind 
seared  his  eyeballs  and  threatened  to  blind  him. 
He  lifted  his  head,  selected  a  distant  landmark, 
sought  to  shelter  his  eyes  with  the  broad  brim  of 
his  hat  and  went  on. 

Noon  found  him  plunging  down  the  steep  bank 
of  a  dry  gulch,  a  hideous  gash  in  the  breast  of  the 

133 


Desert  Valley 

hideous  land.  He  found  a  spot  where  there  was  a 
little  shade  under  a  clump  of  bushes  growing  upon 
the  bank's  edge.  He  ate  a  little  of  his  dried  beef; 
he  treated  himself  to  half  a  dozen  big,  slow  swal 
lows  of  water;  then  he  lay  and  rested  for  half  an 
hour.  Again  he  rose;  he  moistened  his  mouth  and 
lips,  shut  his  teeth  hard  together  as  he  took  the  first 
step  upon  swollen  feet;  again  he  wandered  monot 
onously  through  a  monotonous  land.  There  was  no 
wind  now  save,  infrequently,  frolicsome  little  whirl 
winds  which  danced  about  him  and  were  gone. 
When  he  found  that  their  play  angered  him,  that 
they  seemed  to  mock  at  his  weariness  and  dying 
energies,  he  frowned.  This  was  no  time  and  here 
was  no  place  for  nerves. 

In  the  late  afternoon,  after  having  labored  all 
day  through  a  hell  of  tedium  and  distress,  he  came 
to  the  water-hole.  He  marked  it  from  afar  by  its 
dusty  willows;  he  wondered  if  this  time  he  would 
find  water.  It  struck  him  that  he  must.  He  began 
to  walk  faster;  he  curbed  a  heady  desire  to  break 
into  a  run.  As  it  was  he  came  slowly,  steadily  to 
the  spot.  And  there  was  no  water.  He  would  not 
believe  it.  He  walked  along  the  line  of  willows, 
looking  carefully  everywhere.  And  not  until  he  had 
looked  everywhere  did  he  give  up.  Oddly,  his  com 
pelling  want  at  the  moment  was  less  for  a  drink 
than  for  a  smoke.  He  began  rolling  a  cigarette. 
Halfway  through  the  brief  task  he  desisted,  return 
ing  the  thimbleful  of  tobacco  to  its  sack.  For  the 
hot  smoke  would  merely  dry  out  further  his  already 
dry  mouth. 

He  lay  down  in  what  shade  he  could  find  and 

134 


The  Desert  Supreme 

estimated  very  carefully  the  amount  of  water  in  his 
canteen.  He  weighed  the  vessel  in  his  hand;  he 
unscrewed  the  top  and  held  it  so  as  to  look  into  it. 

"  I've  got  about  three  cupfuls,"  he  told  himself. 

Again  he  studied  his  map.  Again  he  ate  spar 
ingly  and  thereafter  took  a  sip  of  water.  He 
screwed  the  top  on  quickly  and  tightly,  jealous  even 
of  a  drop  which  might  evaporate  in  this  sponge-air. 
He  stood  up,  knowing  that  he  must  not  loiter.  For 
each  second  his  thirst  would  increase  as  the  arid  air 
drew  the  moisture  forth  through  the  pores  of  his 
body.  Before  he  had  moved  a  step  forward  he  saw 
a  man  coming  toward  him.  He  laughed  outright, 
a  laugh  of  suddenly  relieved  nerves  which  had  been 
very  tense.  That  man  would  have  water  and  would 
know  where  other  water  was  to  be  found. 

The  man  came  neither  from  the  direction  of 
Quigley  nor  yet  of  Desert  Valley.  Rather  he  was 
coming  in  from  the  north,  would  cut  Howard's  trail 
almost  at  right  angles.  He  was  on  foot.  Howard 
wondered  at  that.  Further,  the  man  had  a  strange 
way  of  walking.  He  was  half  naked  and  about 
his  head  a  dark  cloth  was  tied.  He  trotted  a  few 
steps,  seemed  to  hesitate  and  balance,  he  came  on 
head  down.  Something  seemed  to  get  in  the  way 
of  his  feet;  he  stumbled,  caught  himself,  stumbled 
a  second  time  and  fell  on  his  face.  He  got  to  his 
hands  and  knees,  slowly  rose  to  his  feet  and  came 
on,  walking  crazily.  Then  Howard  understood. 
The  man  was  an  Indian  or  a  half-breed  and  he  was 
dying  of  thirst. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
A  SON  OF  THE  SOLITUDES 

WONDERINGLY  Howard  watched  the  man 
come  on.  For  a  moment  he  believed  that 
the  newcomer  had  gone  both  mad  and  blind.  For 
the  roving  eyes  were  terrible  to  look  into,  black 
pools  of  misery,  and  the  mouth  was  distended  and 
the  stumbling  feet  did  not  turn  aside  for  scrub  brush 
or  rock.  From  the  waist  up  the  gaunt  coppery  body 
was  naked;  of  a  ragged  pair  of  overalls  held  up  by 
a  rawhide  thong  one  leg  was  gone;  the  feet  were 
bare. 

"  Hey  there,  companero"  called  Howard. 
"Where  are  you  going ?" 

It  was  no  longer  a  question  of  breed  or  Indian 
now.  Despite  the  grime  that  made  a  mask  over  the 
face  the  features  were  unmistakably  those  of  a  pure 
bred  Hopi;  the  shape  of  the  body  that  of  the  desert 
Indian.  He  had  the  small  shoulders,  the  thin  arms 
and  the  powerful  iron  legs  of  his  people.  He  was 
passing  only  a  dozen  steps  from  Howard.  He 
stopped  at  the  sound  of  the  voice,  stared  wildly 
and  then  sagged  on  by.  Howard  called  again  and 
then  followed,  bewildered.  The  Indian  fell  twice 
before  he  came  to  the  spot  where  there  should  be 
water.  Here  he  went  down  on  his  stomach,  putting 
his  face  down  as  though  to  drink.  Howard  heard 
him  groan  when  the  bleared  eyes  saw  that  instead 

136 


A  Son  of  the  Solitudes 

of  water  there  was  but  blazing  hot  sand.  The  In 
dian  made  no  other  sound  but  merely  rolled  over 
on  his  back  and  lay  very  still,  eyes  shut,  jaw  drop 
ping,  hands  lax  at  his  sides. 

"  You  poor  devil!  "  muttered  Howard. 

He  came  to  the  prostrate  figure.  Now  he  noted 
that  from  the  string-belt  there  hung  at  one  hip  a 
little  buckskin  bag;  it  might  have  held  a  handful  of 
dried  meat.  Tied  at  the  other  hip  was  a  bundle  of 
feathers  that  made  gay  color  against  the  grey 
monotony,  feathers  of  the  bluebird,  the  redbird, 
blackbird  and  dove.  Scabbardless,  tied  with  a  bit 
of  thong  close  to  the  feathers,  was  a  knife  with  a 
long  blade. 

The  Indian's  chest  heaved  spasmodically;  his 
breath  came  in  dry  gasps.  Howard  stooped  over 
him  and  called  to  him  softly.  The  eyes  flew  open 
and,  after  a  heavy  gathering  of  the  brows  bespeak 
ing  the  effort  made,  focused  upon  Howard's. 

" Agua"  pleaded  the  swollen  lips. 

Howard  took  up  a  sardine  tin,  the  contents  of 
which  he  had  eaten  while  he  rested,  and,  very  care 
ful  not  to  spill  a  drop  of  the  priceless  fluid,  poured 
it  half  full  from  his  canteen.  Then  he  knelt  and 
put  an  arm  about  the  gaunt  body,  lifting  it  a  little, 
offering  the  water  to  the  broken  lips.  Now  he  noted 
that  the  cloth  about  the  black  head  of  hair  was 
stained  with  blood. 

He  had  expected  the  man  to  drink  thirstily.  In 
stead,  manifesting  a  display  of  will  power  such  as 
the  white  man  had  never  seen,  the  Indian  took  the 
water  slowly,  held  it  a  moment  in  his  mouth,  swal 
lowed  it  drop  by  drop. 

137 


Desert  Valley 

"  More,"  he  said  when  the  tin  was  emptied. 

Again  Howard  filled  it.  Now  the  Indian  sat  up 
right  alone  and  drank.  Afterwards  he  looked  at 
Howard  with  a  long,  piercing  regard.  A  second 
time  he  said,  "  More." 

Howard  with  his  finger  indicated  how  low  his 
water  was. 

"  Not  much  water,  companero,"  he  said  quietly. 
"  Pretty  soon  all  gone." 

"  No  more?  "  queried  the  Indian  sharply. 

Howard  poured  out  the  third  small  tin;  alto 
gether  he  was  giving  the  poor  devil  only  about  a 
cupful  when  a  quart  would  have  been  all  inadequate. 
Again  the  keen  black  eyes  that  seemed  clearer  now 
and  like  a  bird's  probed  at  him.  Again  and  as  be 
fore,  the  Indian  drank. 

"  Me  Kish  Taka,"  he  announced  slowly  and  with 
a  certain  dignity.  "  Come  far,  head  hurt,  much 
sick,  much  blood.  Pretty  soon,  no  water,  die.  Now, 
pretty  good." 

Howard  grunted.  That  a  man  in  this  fellow's 
shape  should  declare  himself  as  being  "  pretty 
good  "  was  worth  any  man's  snort.  He  looked  as 
though  he  would  be  dead  in  ten  minutes  as  he  lay 
back  and  shut  his  eyes.  With  his  eyes  still  shut,  the 
Indian  spoke  again: 

"  You  sabe  other  water-hole?  " 

'No.     I  found  it  dry." 

"  Kish  Taka  sabe  water-hole.  Sleep  now,  damn 
tired,  damn  hot,  head  sick.  Sun  go  down,  get  cold, 
Kish  Taka  go  there,  you  come,  get  water." 

"Where?"  demanded  Howard  quickly.  "How 
far?"  For  he  was  half  inclined  to  believe  that  if 

138 


A  Son  of  the  Solitudes 

Kish   Taka   went   to    sleep   now   he   would   never 
wake. 

The  long,  thin  arm  pointed  out  to  the  southwest. 

"  Not  too  far,"  he  said.  **  Two  big  high  moun 
tain,  some  tree,  water  there.  Maybe  twenty-five 
mile." 

"Good  God!"  exclaimed  Howard.  "Twenty- 
five  miles!  It  might  as  well  be  a  thousand!  " 

The  Indian  did  not  answer.  He  was  breathing 
regularly,  his  lips  were  closed.  For  five  minutes 
Howard  stood  looking  down  upon  him  and  then  he 
tiptoed  a  few  yards  away;  Kish  Taka  was  evidently 
asleep.  Howard  set  his  canteen  down  in  the  shade 
of  a  bush,  found  another  bush  for  himself  and  lay 
as  the  Indian  was  lying,  on  his  back,  relaxing  his 
body.  He  did  not  regret  having  shared  his  water 
with  an  Indian,  but  he  wondered  why  his  destiny  at 
this  time  of  need  had  sent  to  him  another  thirsty 
mouth.  Further  he  allowed  himself  to  wonder 
soberly  if  he  would  ever  see  his  green  fields  again. 
He  measured  his  chances  with  a  steady  mind,  and 
in  the  end  his  mouth  grew  sterner. 

"  If  I've  got  to  cash  in  this  way,"  he  muttered 
as  his  own  sort  of  prayer,  "  I  hope  I  can  be  as  game 
about  it  as  Kish  Taka." 

It  struck  him  that  in  one  thing  the  Indian  was 
wise.  It  was  as  well  to  rest  now  until  after  sunset 
and  then  to  start  on  again  in  what  coolness  the 
evening  might  afford.  Further,  it  was  not  in  him 
now  to  get  up  and  sling  his  canteen  on  his  back  and 
go  on,  leaving  the  fellow  wayfarer  whom  his  fate 
had  given  him.  He  would  try  to  sleep  a  little, 
though  he  had  little  enough  hope  of  coaxing  the 

139 


Desert  Valley 

blissful  condition  of  rest  and  unconsciousness  to  him. 
But,  physically  tired,  lulled  by  the  great  stillness,  it 
was  but  a  few  minutes  when  he,  too,  slept  heavily. 

He  woke  and  sat  up.  The  day  had  gone,  the 
stars  were  out,  the  air  was  cool  against  his  cheek. 
He  got  to  his  feet  and  went  to  the  spot  he  had  left 
the  Indian,  half  expecting  to  find  the  man  dead. 
Instead  he  found  no  man  at  all.  He  looked  about 
him;  there  was  light  enough  to  see  objects  at  a 
considerable  distance.  The  desert  seemed,  as  it  had 
seemed  all  day,  empty.  He  called  and  got  no 
answer.  It  was  obvious  enough  that  Kish  Taka  had 
rested,  waked,  gone  on. 

"  Got  thirsty,"  grunted  Howard,  "  and  just 
trotted  over  to  a  spring  only  twenty-five  miles  off 
for  a  drink!  That's  the  Indian  for  you." 

His  own  thirst  sprang  out  upon  him,  clutching 
him  by  the  throat.  He  stepped  to  the  bush  where 
he  had  left  his  canteen  and  groped  for  it.  When 
he  did  not  find  it,  he  looked  elsewhere,  supposing 
that  he  had  made  a  mistake  in  the  bush.  When  the 
truth  dawned  upon  him  his  whole  body  grew  rigid, 
he  stood  motionless,  even  for  a  little  his  lungs  sus 
pended  their  function.  His  hands  clenched;  for 
some  reason  and  apparently  without  any  act  of  his 
will,  they  were  lifted  slowly  until  they  were  above 
his  head.  Then  they  came  down  slowly  until  they 
were  at  his  sides,  still  clenched  hard.  It  was  his 
only  gesture.  He  did  not  speak  aloud.  Again  he 
stood  still.  But  through  his  heart  and  soul  and 
brain,  sweeping  upward  and  upward,  came  such  a 
flood  of  rage  as  he  had  never  known.  And  with  it, 

140 


A  Son  of  the  Solitudes 

born  of  it,  came  rushing  the  frenzied  craving  to  kill. 
At  last  came  his  dry  whisper : 

"  I  am  going  to  last  long  enough  to  kill  you,  Kish 
Taka,  and  may  God  damn  your  soul !  " 

One  hand  took  up  his  little  bundle  of  food;  the 
other  dropped  to  the  butt  of  his  revolver.  He  went 
swiftly  to  the  spot  where  he  had  left  the  Indian 
whom  he  had  thought  half  dead.  He  estimated 
again  and  with  great  care  the  direction  which  the 
lean  leathery  hand  had  indicated  as  the  direction  of 
water,  Then,  walking  swiftly,  he  struck  out  into 
the  desert.  Here  was  not  the  way  to  Desert  Val 
ley,  not  the  way  to  Quigley.  But  here  was  the  path 
for  one  man  to  follow  when  he  sought  another  man 
who  had  wronged  him.  The  fact  that  his  chances 
of  coming  up  with  the  Indian  were  few  did  not  deter 
the  cattleman;  the  obscurity  of  night  on  the  desert 
did  not  give  him  halt  or  hesitation.  The  flame  of 
his  wrath  burned  high  and  hot  in  his  brain  and  in 
its  lurid  light  he  saw  his  desire  fulfilled.  Had  one 
tried  at  the  moment  to  reason  with  him,  Howard 
would  have  cursed  him  and  gone  on.  His  anger  had 
spurted  up  in  a  brain  already  mad  with  the  torture 
of  thirst. 

And  yet  that  brain  was  clear  enough  to  guide 
him  in  the  way  he  would  go.  He  studied  the  stars, 
found  the  north  and  set  his  course  painstakingly. 
Presently  he  began  to  walk  less  hurriedly,  bent 
savagely  upon  reserving  his  strength.  When  there 
was  some  object  ahead  set  visibly  against  the  sky 
line,  a  hillock  or  a  clump  of  bushes,  he  laid  his 
course  by  it,  checking  again  and  again  by  the  stars. 
When  he  had  walked  an  hour  he  stopped  and  rested, 

141 


Desert  Valley 

lighting  a  match  to  look  at  his  watch.  He  allowed 
himself  exactly  five  minutes  and  floundered  up  and 
went  on  again.  Doggedly  he  sought  to  shut  his 
mind  to  the  pain  stabbing  through  his  weary  feet, 
to  the  constriction  of  his  throat,  to  the  ache  of  his 
body  so  sorely  and  so  long  punished.  When,  had 
matters  been  different,  he  might  have  cried  out: 
"  God,  for  a  drink !  "  he  now  muttered  dully,  u  God, 
put  him  into  my  two  hands !  " 

The  fine,  delicate  machinery  of  a  human  brain, 
like  any  man-made  mechanism  of  great  nicety, 
may  readily  be  thrown  into  confusion,  its  exqui 
site  balance  disturbed,  its  functioning  confounded. 
Thirst,  near-exhaustion,  severe  bodily  distress  and, 
on  top  of  all,  blood-lust  anger  made  Alan  Howard 
over  into  another  man.  He  was  possessed,  ob 
sessed.  As  the  night  wore  on  endlessly  he  created 
for  himself  visions;  he  came  a  thousand  times  upon 
the  Indian;  he  sank  his  fingers  and  thumbs  into  a 
corded  throat;  he  beat  with  his  fists  at  the  pulp  of  a 
face.  He  grew  accustomed  to  his  own  voice,  mut 
tering  ceaselessly.  He  heard  himself  praying  as 
another  man;  the  burden  of  his  prayers  was  always 
the  same:  "  Deliver  him,  O  Lord,  into  mine  hands." 
He  was  half  mad  for  water  and  he  cursed  Kish 
Taka;  he  drove  his  body  on  when  the  agonized 
muscles  rebelled  and,  driving  mercilessly,  he  cursed 
Kish  Taka. 

Somehow  the  night  passed  and  through  it  he  stag 
gered  on.  He  fell  as  he  had  seen  the  Indian  fall; 
he  recalled  that  the  Indian  had  arisen  and  he  rose. 
Each  time  that  he  failed  in  something  that  he  tried 
to  do  it  was  as  though  an  imp  jeered  and  taunted 

142 


A  Son  of  the  Solitudes 

him,  calling  to  him:  "Ho!  The  Indian  is  a  better 
man.  He  is  off  there  in  the  darkness,  laughing  at 
you !  " 

There  came  a  time  when  he  stumbled  at  every 
step,  when  he  pitched  forward  frequently  and  lay 
inert  and  had  to  gather  his  strength  to  get  up ;  when 
he  wondered  if  he  wa^  going  mad  or  if  already  he 
had  gone  mad;  when  his  thirst  was  a  killing  agony 
and  he  knew  that  it  was  in  truth  killing  him;  when 
he  crawled  on  his  hands  and  knees  up  slight  slopes; 
when  the  stars  danced  and  he  frowned  at  them 
stupidly,  seeking  the  North  Star,  seeking  to  know 
which  way  led  to  Kish  Taka.  When  the  first  faint 
glint  of  dawn  sweetened  the  air  he  was  lying  on  his 
back;  he  felt,  rather  than  saw,  that  a  new  day  was 
blossoming.  He  collected  his  wandering  faculties, 
fought  with  the  lassitude  which  stole  upon  him  when 
ever  his  senses  were  not  on  the  alert  and  sat  up. 
And  he  would  have  cried  out  aloud  at  what  he  saw 
were  not  his  throat  and  mouth  and  lips  so  dry  that 
he  was  beyond  calling  out.  For  yonder,  a  blurred 
moving  shape  came  toward  him.  The  shape  was  a 
man's,  and  he  knew  that  it  was  Kish  Taka. 

Somehow  he  got  to  his  feet,  somehow  he  dragged 
his  revolver  out  of  its  holster,  somehow  he  took  a 
dozen  tottering  steps  forward.  He  saw  that  Kish 
Taka  had  seen  him  and  had  stopped;  that  the  Indian 
carried  his  canteen;  that  he  was  moving  again. 
Howard  lifted  his  gun,  holding  it  in  both  hands. 
He  was  afraid  that  even  now  his  quarry  would 
escape  him,  that  Kish  Taka  would  run  and  that  he 
could  not  follow.  His  fingers  found  the  trigger 
and  pressed  it  as  he  sought  to  hold  the  wavering 


Desert  Valley 

muzzle  steady.  There  was  a  loud  report  that 
seemed  to  tear  his  brain  to  broken  shreds,  his  arms 
dropped  lax  at  his  sides,  the  revolver  fell,  its  muzzle 
burying  itself  in  the  sand.  His  knees  sagged  and 
he  went  down,  settling  slowly.  As  he  fell  he  saw 
that  Kish  Taka  was  running — but  not  away  from 
him.  Running  like  a  deer  was  Kish  Taka,  running 
straight  to  the  fallen  man. 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  Howard  fainted. 
The  pink  dawn  went  black  in  his  eyes,  his  brain 
reeled,  the  booming  as  of  a  distant  surf  filled  his 
ears  and  then  unconsciousness  engulfed  him.  When 
he  knew  anything  at  all  it  was  that  he  was  sitting 
up,  that  two  thin  brown  arms  were  about  his  body, 
that  water  was  trickling  down  his  throat. 


144 


CHAPTER  XIV 
THE  HATE  OF  THE  HIDDEN  PEOPLE 

T  T  THEN  Alan  Howard  fully  understood  he  felt 
V  V  his  face  go  red  with  shame.  There  was  in  his 
soul  something  akin  to  timidity  as  he  put  his  hand 
forth  for  the  hand  of  Kish  Taka.  And  when  the 
Indian  nodded  gravely  and  gave  his  own  hand,  the 
white  man's  fingers  locked  about  it  hard.  Still  East 
was  East  and  West  was  West  and  again  had  two 
strong  men  met  from  the  ends  of  earth. 

"  I  have  horses  and  cows  and  houses  and  corn," 
said  Howard,  speaking  slowly  and  simply  that  the 
Indian  might  understand  clearly.  "  What  I  have  is 
my  brother's.  When  Kish  Taka  wants  a  friend,  let 
him  come  down  into  Desert  Valley  and  call  to  Alan 
Howard." 

The  beady,  bird-like  eyes  were  void  of  expression 
as  Kish  Taka  regarded  him  steadily.  The  Indian 
did  not  so  much  as  nod  again.  Like  the  desert  that 
had  mothered  him  and  his  progenitors  he  had  the 
tricks  of  silence  and  of  inscrutability. 

From  the  few  words  which  the  Indian  had 
spoken  and  from  his  own  suddenly  altered  estimate 
of  his  new  companion,  Howard  came  to  understand 
fully  the  amazing  act  which  Kish  Taka  had  per 
formed  during  the  night.  The  Indian  had  been  near 
the  limits  of  his  strength  and  endurance  when  the 
white  man  had  given  him  generously  of  his  water. 


Desert  Valley 

Kish  Taka  had  drunk  sparingly  and,  because  he  was 
desert-bred  and  because  the  stock  from  which  he 
was  sprung  was  desert-bred,  his  bodily  strength  had 
returned  to  him.  He  slept;  Howard  slept.  But  the 
Indian  woke,  somewhat  refreshed,  in  half  an  hour. 
He  understood  that  in  the  canteen  there  was  not 
water  for  both.  He  promptly  drank  one  of  the 
two  remaining  cupfuls,  slung  the  canteen  over  his 
shoulder  and  struck  off  swiftly  for  the  twenty-five- 
mile-distant  spring. 

Again,  had  he  been  other  than  a  Hopi,  less  than 
the  superb  creature  that  he  was,  the  thing  could  not 
have  been  done.  Down  in  Oraibi  today  an  Indian 
boy  will  run  eighty  miles  in  a  day  for  ten  dollars, 
and  on  his  return  will  run  races  for  fun.  The 
American  desert  has  made  him  just  as  it  has  made 
the  thirstless  cactus  and  the  desert  wolf.  He  is  a 
special  creation,  and  Kish  Taka  was  but  doing  the 
thing  he  knew.  On  the  run  he  drained  the  canteen; 
at  the  end  of  it  he  stopped  and  drank  and  rested 
briefly.  Then  with  full  canteen  he  turned  back  to 
succor  and  save  the  man  who  had  befriended  and 
saved  him.  So  it  came  about  that  he  found  Howard 
in  time. 

All  of  that  long  hot  day  they  sought  to  rest,  lying 
inert  in  what  scant  shade  they  could  find,  eating  a 
few  bits  of  dried  beef,  drinking  their  water  now  and 
then.  By  the  time  that  the  first  hint  of  coming  cool 
ness  crept  into  the  air  Howard  sat  up,  somewhat 
refreshed  and  again  eager  to  be  moving.  He  turned 
to  the  Indian  with  a  question  on  his  lips,  for  a 
thought  had  come  to  him. 

"  Do  you  know  Jim  Courtot?  "  he  asked  sharply. 
146 


The  Hate  of  the  Hidden  People 

Kish  Taka's  eyes  were  veiled. 

"  What  man,  Jeem  Cour'  ?  "  he  demanded  expres- 
sionlessly.  Then,  with  the  naivete  of  a  child: 
"  Him  your  f rien'  ?  " 

Howard  tapped  the  sagging  holster  at  his  hip. 

"  For  Jim  Courtot  I  carry  this,"  he  returned 
quietly.  "  He  wants  to  kill  me." 

"  Then,"  said  Kish  Taka,  and  through  the  veils 
in  his  eyes  fire  flashed  and  was  gone,  "  him  better 
be  quick!  Me,  Kish  Taka,  I  kill  Jeem  Cour'  damn 
quick  pretty  soon." 

Howard  looked  at  him  curiously,  wondering  just 
how  the  trails  of  the  gambler  and  the  desert  man 
had  crossed  and  what  wrong  Courtot  had  done  the 
other.  For  he  did  not  doubt  that  the  sin  had  been 
Courtot's. 

"  You  have  a  big  dog,"  he  said,  still  looking  prob- 
ingly  into  the  beady  eyes.  "  Big  dog,  big  head,  big 
shoulders,  teeth  like  a  wolf.  Where  is  he?" 

If  Kish  Taka  wondered  at  his  knowledge,  no  sign 
evidenced  the  fact.  His  own  teeth,  white  and  strong 
as  a  wolf's,  showed  fleetingly  and  into  his  expression 
came  merely  a  look  of  pride. 

"  You  my  frien'. — Sec !  "  With  a  swift  gesture 
he  whipped  from  his  side  his  long  knife,  pricked 
his  arm  so  that  a  drop  of  blood  came,  set  his  fore 
finger  to  the  ruby  drop  and  leaning  closer,  touched 
the  finger  point  in  the  palm  of  Howard's  hand. 
"  Kish  Taka  tell  you  true.  No  other  dog  like  the 
dog  of  Kish  Taka !  He  run  with  Kish  Taka,  fight 
with  Kish  Taka,  hunt  with  Kish  Taka — kill  for 
Kish  Taka !  He  smell  out  the  trail  of  the  man  not 
the  frien'  of  Kish  Taka.  Now,  Kish  Taka  say, 

147 


Desert  Valley 

4  Dog,  go  home.'  And  he  gone.  Yonder."  He 
swept  his  long  arm  out  toward  the  north. 

"Far?" 

"  Running,"  answered  Kish  Taka,  "  he  go  three 
day  and  night.  Running  he  come  back,  other  three 
day  and  night." 

From  other  added  fragments  Howard  gathered 
something  of  a  story:  Kish  Taka  and  his  brother, 
the  dog  with  them,  had  come  from  "  where  they 
lived  "  far  off  to  the  north,  seeking  Jim  Courtot. 
Yesterday  Kish  Taka  had  sent  his  dog  back  across 
the  wastes,  carrying  a  message.  The  message  was 
in  the  form  of  a  feather  from  his  belt  tied  with  a 
lock  of  hair  dipped  in  blood.  The  feather  was  grey, 
from  a  dove's  wing,  and  grey  is  symbolical  of  the 
Underworld  with  the  Hopi;  the  hair  was  from  the 
head  of  Kish  Taka's  brother.  The  meaning  was 
plain.  The  explanation  came  stoically:  Kish  Taka 
pointed  to  the  wound  upon  his  own  head.  Jim 
Courtot,  more  cunning  than  they  had  thought,  had 
surprised  his  pursuers,  had  even  come  out  into  the 
desert  to  take  them  unawares.  He  had  killed  the 
other  Indian  from  ambush,  had  wounded  Kish  Taka 
and  had  fled.  Now  Kish  Taka's  tribesmen  would 
understand  and  another  runner  would  come  to  take 
the  place  of  him  who  had  fallen. 

That  the  dog  would  understand  to  make  the  re 
turn  across  the  desert  to  "  where  they  lived  "  was 
also  explained.  Each  man  there  had  his  dog,  each 
man  had  his  friend.  These  two  men,  kind  to  their 
two  dogs,  caressed  them,  fed  them,  sheltered  them. 
All  other  men  in  the  tribe  abused  these  two  beasts 
on  sight,  stoned  them,  drove  them  away.  Hence 

148 


The  Hate  of  the  Hidden  People 

every  dog  had  two  masters  whom  he  loved  with  all 
of  the  loyalty  of  a  dog  heart  and  all  other  men  he 
distrusted  and  feared  and  hated.  Now,  in  the 
desert,  Kish  Taka  had  but  to  drive  his  dog  from 
him,  shouting  at  him,  casting  a  stone  at  him,  and 
the  big  brute  to  whom  similar  experiences  had  come 
before  out  of  as  clear  a  sky,  knew  that  he  had  a 
friend  in  the  distant  camp,  one  friend  only  in  the 
world,  and  as  straight  as  a  dart  made  off  to  find 
him.  In  three  days1  time  he  would  be  leaping  and 
fawning  upon  his  other  master,  sure  of  food  and 
kind  words.  And,  when  in  turn  that  other  master 
turned  upon  him  and  seized  a  stick  with  which  to 
beat  him,  he  would  know  that  Kish  Taka  would  take 
him  into  his  arms  and  give  him  meat  and  water. 
For  such  things  had  he  known  since  he  was  a  roly- 
poly  puppy. 

There  was  but  one  matter  further  about  which 
Howard  wondered,  and  he  asked  his  question  point- 
blank.  Point-blank  Kish  Taka  answered  it. 

Jim  Courtot,  with  lies  in  his  mouth,  had  come  to 
these  desert  folk  several  months  ago.  He  had 
tarried  with  them  long,  swearing  that  he  hated  all 
white  men,  that  he  had  killed  a  white  and  that  the 
whites  would  kill  him,  that  he  would  spend  his  life 
with  the  Indians,  teaching  them  good  things.  In 
time  they  came  to  trust  him.  He  learned  of  them 
their  secrets,  he  found  where  they  hid  the  gold  they 
used  now  and  then  to  barter  with  the  white  men  in 
their  towns,  he  saw  their  hidden  turquoises.  Fur 
ther,  he  wronged  a  maiden  who  was  one  day  to  come 
to  the  kiva  of  the  head  man,  the  Hawk  Man,  Kish 
Taka.  The  maiden  now  was  dead  by  her  own  hand; 

!I49 


Desert  Valley 

Courtot  that  night,  full-handed  with  his  thievings, 
had  fled;  and  always  and  always,  until  the  end  came, 
Kish  Taka  would  follow  him. 

Howard  heard  and  looked  away  through  the 
growing  dusk  and  saw,  not  the  scope  of  a  dimming 
landscape,  but  something  of  the  soul  of  Kish  Taka. 
He  understood  that  the  Indian  had  given  his  con 
fidence  freely  and  he  knew  that  it  was,  no  doubt,  the 
first  and  last  time  in  his  life  that  he  would  so  speak 
with  a  bahana.  And  it  was  because  Howard  had 
shared  his  last  water  with  him  and  was,  therefore, 
"brother."  Kish  Taka  was  an  implacable  hater; 
he  would  follow  Jim  Courtot  until  one  of  them  was 
dead;  Kish  Taka  was  a  loyal  friend,  for  the  Hopi 
who  will  bare  his  heart  to  a  man  will  bare  his  breast 
for  him. 

Further  questions  Howard  did  not  ask,  feeling 
that  he  had  penetrated  already  further  into  the 
man's  own  personal  matters  than  he  should  have 
done.  He  had  heard  tales  such  as  all  men  hear 
when  they  come  into  the  influence  of  the  desert 
southwest,  wild  tales  like  those  he  had  recounted 
about  Superstition  Pool  to  Helen  and  her  father, 
wilder  tales  about  a  people  who  dwelt  on  in  the 
more  northern  and  more  bleak  parts  of  the  desert. 
Lies,  for  the  most  part,  he  judged  them,  such  lies  as 
men  tell  of  an  unknown  country  and  other  men  repeat 
and  embroider.  There  were  men  whom  he  knew 
who  maintained  stoutly  that  the  old  Seven  Cities  of 
Cibola  were  no  dead  myth  but  a  living  reality;  that 
there  were  a  Hidden  People;  that  they  had  strange 
customs  and  worshiped  strange  gods  and  bowed  the 
knee  in  particular  to  a  young  and  white  goddess, 

150 


The  Hate  of  the  Hidden  People 

named  Yohoya ;  that  they  hunted  with  monster  dogs, 
that  they  had  hidden  cities  scooped  out  centuries  ago 
in  mountain  cliffs  and  that  they  were  incredibly  rich 
in  gold  and  turquoises.  Lies,  perhaps.  And  yet  a 
lie  may  be  based  upon  truth.  Here  was  a  high-type 
Indian  who  called  himself  Kish  Taka,  the  Hawk 
Man;  he  hunted  with  such  a  dog;  he  camped  on  the 
trail  of  a  bahana  who  had  betrayed  and  robbed  his 
people.  That  bahana  was  Jim  Courtot.  What  had 
taken  Jim  Courtot  into  that  country? — And  now 
that  he  was  back,  Jim  Courtot  was  flush.  And, 
when  Sandy  Weaver  had  mentioned  certain  tracks 
to  him,  he  had  stared  over  his  shoulder  and  turned 
white!  Truly,  there  were  many  questions  to  ask; 
but  Howard  refrained  from  asking  them. 

"  This  Indian  has  played  a  white  man's  part  to 
me,"  he  told  himself.  "  And  his  business  is  his 
own  and  not  mine." 

"Come,"  said  Kish  Taka  abruptly  out  of  the 
silence  into  which  they  had  sunk.  u  Cool  now, 
we  go." 

They  had  but  little  water  remaining  in  Howard's 
canteen,  and  Kish  Taka  scorned  carrying  water  for 
himself;  but  he  had  outlined  the  trail  they  would 
take  and  appeared  confident  that  they  would  not 
suffer  from  lack  of  water.  They  struck  out  toward 
the  southeast,  the  Indian  swinging  along  ahead,  his 
body  stooped  a  little  forward,  his  thjn  arms  hanging 
loose  at  his  sides.  Several  times  Howard  stopped 
to  drink;  the  Indian  drank  once  only  before  their 
arrival  at  the  spring.  Here  they  rested  and  ate. 
The  night  was  already  far  advanced  and  glorious 
with  its  blazing  stars,  ,and  they  did  not  tarry  long. 


Desert  Valley 

In  half  an  hour  they  moved  on  again.  As  day  was 
breaking  Kish  Taka  led  the  way  up  a  steep-sided 
mesa  and,  catching  Howard's  arm,  pointed  out 
toward  the  east. 

"  Here  we  turn,"  he  explained.  "  Not  so  far  that 
way,  maybe  two  hours,  we  find  more  water.  Then 
we  go  that  way,"  and  he  indicated  that  they  must 
bear  off  a  little  to  the  south,  "  and  more  water. 
Then  we  sleep  in  shade.  Then  at  night,  not  too  far, 
see  your  place." 

It  came  about  that  all  that  Kish  Taka  had  pre 
dicted  was  so.  They  found  water;  they  spent  the 
long  day  in  the  shade  of  some  stunted  trees;  they 
ate  all  but  a  few  scraps  of  their  food;  they  went  on 
again  at  sundown.  In  the  pink  flush  of  another 
dawn  they  stood  together  on  the  uplands  back  of 
Last  Ridge  and  saw  before  them  and  below  them 
the  green  of  Desert  Valley.  In  the  foreground,  a 
thin  wisp  of  smoke  arose  from  the  spot  where  the 
Longstreets  were  camped. 

"  Kish  Taka  go  back  now."  The  Indian  stood, 
arms  folded  across  his  gaunt  chest,  eyes  hard  on 
Howard's.  "  Back  to  the  Bad  Lands  to  sit  down. 
Soon  Kish  Taka's  dog  comes  and  with  him  a  man. 
And  while  he  waits,  Kish  Taka  will  make  many 
stones  piled  up  on  his  brother." 

He  swung  on  his  heel  to  go.  But  Howard  caught 
at  his  arm. 

"  Wait,"  he  said.  "  Two  things:  One,  where  that 
fire  is  are  two  people.  An  old  man  and  a  girl. 
They  are  my  friends,  Kish  Taka." 

Kish  Taka  nodded. 

"  My  frien's,"  he  said  simply. 


The  Hate  of  the  Hidden  People 

"The  other  thing,"  said  Howard.  "  Kish 
Taka,  hungry,  killed  my  calves.  He  left  gold. 
When  again  Kish  Taka  is  hungry,  let  him  kill 
as  many  calves  as  he  pleases.  But  let  him  keep 
his  gold." 

Again  the  Indian  nodded.  And  this  time  Howard 
let  him  go. 

The  Indian  went  back  toward  the  Bad  Lands, 
swift,  silent,  and  in  a  little  was  lost  in  the  distance. 
He  did  not  once  turn.  Howard  withdrew  his  eyes 
and  sent  them  questing  down  toward  the  wisp  of 
smoke.  His  thoughts  were  wandering.  And  last 
they  winged  to  Jim  Courtot. 

"  Jim  Courtot,"  he  muttered  under  his  breath,  as 
though  the  man  were  with  him,  and  as  he  saw 
fancied  visions  of  things  to  be,  "  I  have  it  in  my 
heart  to  be  almost  sorry  for  you." 

Then  he  shrugged,  filled  his  lungs  with  the  fresh 
clean  cool  air  which  rose  up  across  the  miles  from 
his  own  pastures  and  set  his  feet  into  the  trail  that 
would  lead  home — by  way  of  the  Longstreets'.  Now 
he  walked  eagerly.  In  half  an  hour  he  had  made 
his  way  down  to  the  flat  upon  which  the  canvas 
shanty  stood.  He  came  on,  the  fatigue  gone  from 
a  stride  that  was  suddenly  buoyant;  there  was  a 
humorous  glint  in  his  eyes  as  he  counted  upon 
surprising  them;  he  would  just  say,  casually, 
that  he  had  dropped  in,  neighbor-style,  for  break 
fast. 

Then  he  saw  Helen,  her  upturned,  laughing  face 
rosy  with  the  newly  risen  sun.  Before  her,  looking 
down  into  her  eyes,  was  John  Carr.  Howard  came 
abruptly  to  a  dead  halt  They  saw  him,  and  Helen 

153 


Desert  Valley 

called  something  to  him.  Again  he  came  on,  but 
the  joyous  spring  had  gone  out  of  his  stride  and  he 
realized  in  a  dull,  strange  fashion  that  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life  he  was  not  glad  to  see  his  old 
friend. 


CHAPTER  XV 
THE  GOLDEN  SECRET 

OOD-MORNING,  Mr.  Howard!"  cried 
Helen  gaily.  Her  cheeks  were  still  rosy, 
flushed,  thought  Howard  quickly,  less  with  the  flood 
of  the  dawn  than  with  some  sudden  rush  of  blood 
stirred  by  something  that  Carr  had  been  saying. 
Then  as  she  gave  him  her  hand,  inspired  by  the  imp 
of  the  moment,  she  ran  on :  "  You  should  have  been 
here  last  night!  Shouldn't  he,  Mr.  Carr?  Sanchia 
was  here !  " 

"  Mrs.  Murray?  "  demanded  Howard,  wondering 
and  therefore  floundering  into  Helen's  trap.  **  What 
was  she  doing  here?  " 

Helen  appeared  to  be  in  the  lightest  of  spirits  this 
morning.  Her  laughter  was  one  of  sheer  joyous- 
ness.  Her  eyes  were  dancing  as  she  retorted: 

"Mrs.  Murray?  Who  said  Mrs.  Murray?  I 
was  talking  about  Sanchia.  Mr.  Chuck  Evans 
rode  her  over  last  night,  asking  if  we  had  seen 
you." 

Howard  bit  his  lip.  Carr  laughed.  Then,  seeing 
the  look  upon  his  friend's  face,  he  grew  grave  im 
mediately  and  put  out  his  own  hand,  saying  merely : 

"  We  wondered  what  had  become  of  you,  Al. 
And  now  to  have  you  come  in  from  that  direction 
— and  on  foot!  What's  happened?  " 

"  A  side-winder  scared  my  horse  into  breaking  its 


Desert  Valley 

tie-rope  and  leaving  me  on  foot.  And  I've  had 
enough  walking  to  last  me  seven  incarnations. 
Hello,  Mr.  Longstreet,"  as  he  saw  the  professor 
step  out  of  his  canvas  house.  Howard  went  for 
ward  to  meet  him,  leaving  John  Carr  with  Helen. 

"  Just  the  man  I  was  wishing  to  see,"  beamed 
Longstreet,  shaking  hands  enthusiastically.  "  I  was 
on  the  verge  of  taking  up  the  matter  with  your  good 
friend  Carr  last  night,  but  something  prompted  me 
to  wait  until  this  morning,  in  hopes  you  would  come. 
I — I  seem  to  know  you  better,  somehow."  He 
lowered  his  voice  confidentally.  "  Those  two  out 
there  are  just  a  couple  of  youngsters  this  morning. 
You  and  I  will  have  to  be  the  serious  brains  of  the 
occasion." 

Howard  glanced  over  his  shoulder.  Carr's  broad 
back  was  turned  to  him,  Helen's  eyes,  glancing  to 
ward  the  shack,  were  sparkling. 

"  Fire  away,"  he  said  colorlessly.  "  What's  in 
the  wind?  " 

"  First  thing —    Had  breakfast  yet?  " 

Oddly,  Howard  had  no  longer  any  appetite  for 
coffee  and  bacon  though  he  had  hungrily  swallowed 
his  last  bit  of  dried  meat  an  hour  ago. 

"  Then,"  said  Longstreet  eagerly,  "  come  in  here 
where  we  can  talk."  And  to  Helen  he  called,  "  My 
dear,  I  want  a  few  words  with  Mr.  Howard." 

"  Oh,  we  won't  disturb  you,"  Helen  laughed  back 
at  him.  It  struck  Howard  that  she  would  laugh  at 
anything  this  morning.  "  Mr.  Carr  and  I  were  just 
going  up  on  the  cliff  for  the  view." 

Longstreet  came  in  and  dropped  the  flap  behind 
him.  Then  he  stepped  to  a  shelf  and  took  down  a 


The  Golden  Secret 

roll  of  paper  which  he  spread  upon  the  table. 
Howard  looking  at  it  with  lack-lustre  eyes  saw  that 
it  was  a  sort  of  geological  chart  of  the  neighbor 
hood.  Longstreet  set  his  finger  upon  a  point  where 
he  had  made  a  cross  in  red  pencil. 

"  It's  there,"  he  announced  triumphantly. 

Howard  was  thinking  of  the  view  from  the  cliff 
and  failed  to  grasp  the  other's  meaning. 

"  What's  there?"  he  asked. 

"Gold,  man!"  cried  Longstreet.  "Gold! 
Didn't  I  say  it  was  as  simple  as  ABC  to  find  gold 
here?  Well,  I've  done  it!" 

"  Oh,  gold."  And  even  yet  Howard's  interest 
was  not  greatly  intrigued.  "  I  see." 

Longstreet  stared  at  him  wonderingly.  And  then, 
suddenly,  Howard  came  to  earth.  Why,  the  thing, 
if  true,  was  wonderful,  glorious !  With  all  his  heart 
he  hoped  it  was  true;  for  Longstreet's  dear  old 
sake,  for  Helen's.  He  studied  the  map. 

"  That  would  be  right  over  yonder?  About  half 
a  mile  from  here?  In  Dry  Gulch?" 

u  Precisely.  And  it  has  been  there  since  the  time 
Dry  Gulch  was  r  ot  dry  but  filled  with  rushing  waters. 
It  has  been  there  for  any  man  to  find  who  was  not 
a  fool  or  blind.  It  rather  looks,"  and  he  chuckled, 
"  as  though  it  had  been  waiting  since  the  Pliocene 
age  for  me." 

"  You  are  sure?  You  haven't  just  stumbled  upon 
a  little  pocket—" 

Longstreet  snorted. 

"  I  am  going  into  the  nearest  fair-sized  town  right 
away,"  he  said  emphatically,  u  to  get  men  and  im 
plements  to  begin  a  moderate  development.  It  is  a 

157 


Desert  Valley 

gold  mine,  my  dear  young  sir,  nothing  else  or  less. 
Here;  look  at  this." 

It  was  a  handful  of  bits  of  quartz,  brought  up  into 
the  light  from  the  depths  of  a  sagging  pocket.  The 
quartz  indicated  high-grade  ore ;  it  was  streaked  and 
pitted  with  soft  yellow  gold. 

"  By  the  Lord,  youVe  got  it !  "  cried  Howard. 
He  wrung  Longstreet's  hand  warmly.  "  Good  for 
you.  YouVe  got  the  thing  you  came  for!  " 

"  One  of  the  things,"  Longstreet  corrected  him 
with  twinkling  eyes. 

"And  the  other?" 

"  Another  gold  mine !  As  our  young  friend 
Barbee  puts  it,  Fm  all  loaded  for  bear  this  trip, 
partner!  " 

"  And  you  haven't  told  Miss  Helen  ?    Or  Carr  ?  " 

"  Never  a  word.  And  for  two  very  excellent  rea 
sons:  Imprimis,  they  both  were  poking  fun  at  me 
last  night;  Helen  said  that  I  couldn't  find  gold  if  it 
were  in  a  minted  twenty-dollar  gold  piece  in  my  own 
pocket.  Now  I  am  having  my  revenge  on  them;  I'll 
show  them!  Secundo:  Next  week  comes  Helen's 
birthday.  I  am  going  to  give  her  a  little  surprise. 
A  gold  mine  for  a  birthday  present  sn't  bad,  is  it?  " 

Howard  sat  down  to  talk  matters  over,  and  since 
there  was  still  coffee  and  some  bits  of  toast  left  he 
changed  his  mind  about  breakfast  and  ate  and  drank 
while  he  listened  to  Longstreet.  The  university 
man  had  made  certain  of  the  value  of  his  discovery 
only  last  evening;  it  had  happened  that  Carr  was 
staying  over  with  them  and  therefore,  while  he  and 
Helen  chatted  about  a  great  deal  of  nothing  at  all, 
Longstreet  had  ample  time  to  think  matters  over. 


The  Golden  Secret 

Today  he  meant  to  go  into  Big  Run  and  on  into  the 
county  seat,  which  he  had  learned  was  but  a  few 
miles  further  on  and  was  a  sizable  town.  There  he 
would  take  on  a  small  crew  of  men  and  what  tools 
and  implements  and  powder  would  be  needed  for 
uncovering  his  ledge  and  there  he  would  attend  to 
the  necessary  papers,  the  proving  up  on  his  claim, 
matters  upon  which  he  was  somewhat  hazy.  The 
following  day  he  would  return  and  begin  work. 

"  I've  got  to  go  down  by  the  ranch,"  Howard 
told  him.  "  Then,  if  you  like,  I  can  go  on  with 
you.  It  is  possible  I  might  be  of  service  to  you. 
At  least,  I  could  steer  you  into  the  right  sort  of 
people." 

Longstreet  nodded  vigorously.  "  That's  fine  of 
you.  And  I  won't  say  it  was  not  expected.  Some 
day,  perhaps,  I  can  repay  you  for  some  of  your 
kindnesses  to  us.  Now,  if  you  are  ready,  I'll  go  and 
call  Helen.  And,  remember,  not  a  word  to  them 
about  our  business." 

"  Miss  Helen  will  go  with  us?" 

"I  can  hardly  leave  her  out  here  alone,  can  I?" 
smiled  Longstreet.  "  And  Mr.  Carr  said  that  he 
would  have  to  leave  this  morning.  While  he  and 
Helen  chat  together,  you  and  I  can  ride  on  ahead 
and  talk.  There  are  any  number  of  matters  to 
discuss." 

Howard  hastily  expressed  his  approval  of  the 
plan,  and  if  his  tone  lacked  heartiness,  Longstreet 
did  not  notice. 

:<  We  are  all  going  down  to  Desert  Valley  ranch," 
Longstreet  explained  when  Helen  and  Carr  came  at 
his  calling.  "  From  there  we  are  going  to  ride  to 

159 


Desert  Valley 

Big  Run  and  then  on  into  San  Ramon.  I  want  to 
get  some — some  tools  and  things  there,  to  scratch 
around  with,  you  know,"  he  concluded,  beaming  with 
that  expression  that  he  wore  when  he  had  an  ace  in 
the  hole.  Helen  looked  at  him  with  keen  suspicious 
eyes. 

"  Papa  is  up  to  something  underhanded,"  she  an 
nounced  serenely.  "  He  thinks  that  he  can  fool  me 
when  he  pleases  and — look  at  his  face!  What  is 
it,  father?." 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Longstreet  hastily.  "  Just 
get  yourself  ready,  my  dear.  You'll  ride  with  us, 
Mr.  Carr?" 

Helen,  always  ready  for  a  ride,  hurried  for  her 
hat  and  gloves;  now  from  the  end  of  the  room,  her 
eyes  bright  with  mischief  and  hidden  from  the  men, 
she  called: 

"  Do  come,  Mr.  Carr.  I  have  to  have  someone 
to  talk  with,  you  know,  and  papa  and  Mr.  Howard 
never  let  me  slip  a  word  in  sideways." 

"  She  wasn't  like  this  when  we  rode  home  in  the 
moonlight  the  other  night,"  thought  Howard,  con 
siderably  puzzled.  "  What  have  I  done,  anyway?  " 

Carr  did  not  give  a  direct  answer.  While  he  cut 
the  end  off  a  fresh  cigar  he  suggested: 

"  How  about  the  horses?    Al  is  on  foot." 

"  That's  easy,"  Howard  answered.  "  Chuck 
Evans  is  herding  a  string  up  this  way  and  I  can  get 
one  of  them.  Be  back  while  you  are  getting  ready." 
And  over  his  shoulder  to  Carr,  feeling  vaguely  that 
in  his  heart  he  had  been  unreasonable  and  not  quite 
loyal,  "  Better  come  along,  John." 

From  the  edge  of  the  tableland  he  saw  Evans 
1 60 


The  Golden  Secret 

down  below.  The  cowboy  saw  him  and  came  at  his 
signal. 

"  So  you're  back,  are  you  ?  "  said  Chuck.  "  We'd 
begun  to  wonder  if  you'd  hit  the  trail  for  some 
otherwhere.  Special,"  he  added  significantly,  "  since 
it's  been  published  kind  of  wide  and  large  that  you 
and  Jim  Courtot  was  both  packing  shooting-irons." 

"  I  haven't  seen  Courtot,"  Howard  told  him  care 
lessly,  "  and  I'm  beginning  to  believe  that  he  has 
other  calves  to  brand  and  has  pretty  well  forgotten 
all  about  me.  I'm  shy  a  horse,  Chuck.  Scare  one 
up  for  me  to  ride  back  to  the  ranch,  will  you?  " 

By  the  time  Chuck  on  his  own  horse  had  roped 
a  mount  for  Howard  the  little  party  was  ready. 
They  rode  down  into  the  valley  four  abreast  and 
across  the  fields  to  the  ranch  house.  Helen  seemed 
a  new  creature  this  morning,  utterly  tantalizing  and 
not  a  little  perverse.  Howard  did  not  know  what 
a  proud  and  independent  little  person  she  was  nor 
did  he  know  that  each  day  during  the  week  she  had 
expected  him  to  ride  over  and  had  finally  told  her 
self  point-blank  that  it  did  not  matter  the  least  snap 
of  her  fingers  whether  he  ever  came  or  not.  Nat 
urally,  she  did  not  know  what  had  kept  him  away 
or  that  he  had  even  wanted  to  come.  Now  that 
she  had  heard  his  remark  about  a  lost  horse  and  a 
long  walk  she  was  burning  with  curiosity.  But  that 
was  another  matter  hidden  from  Alan. 

She  did  remark  the  big  revolver  at  his  hip  and 
when  opportunity  arose  mentioned  it  to  Carr. 
Wasn't  it  rather  strange,  she  wanted  to  know,  and 
even  somewhat  absurd  that  a  man  should  go  about 
armed  like  that?  Carr  evaded  and  made  a  vague 


Desert  Valley 

remark  about  a  man  riding  across  the  Bad  Lands, 
perhaps  with  money  in  his  pocket.  But  John  Carr 
was  a  blunt,  straightforward  type  of  man,  little 
given  to  finesse  in  circumlocution,  and  Helen  fixed 
her  frank,  level  gaze  upon  him  and  knew  that  he 
was  holding  back  something.  Still  higher  rose  her 
curiosity  about  a  man  whom  she  did  her  feminine 
best  to  ignore  this  morning. 

Before  they  came  to  the  ranch  house  Helen  and 
her  father  were  riding  ahead,  while  the  two  friends 
dropped  further  and  further  back.  Carr  listened 
with  keen  interest  as  Alan  sketched  the  happenings 
of  the  last  few  days.  He  whistled  softly  at  what 
he  learned  of  the  man  on  the  trail  of  Jim  Courtot. 
But  he  shook  his  head  when  Alan  predicted  that, 
soon  or  late,  Kish  Taka  would  kill  the  gambler. 

"  It's  white  man  and  Indian,  Al,"  he  said.  "  The 
thing  always  works  out  the  same  way.  Jim  got  one 
of  the  two  of  them,  didn't  he  ?  Well,  he'll  get  the 
other.  And  what  I  know  of  the  breed  of  your  friend 
Kish  Taka  they're  a  pretty  low-lived  bunch  and 
there'd  be  precious  little  harm  done  if  they  killed 
each  other." 

But  Alan  shook  his  head.  u  Kish  Taka  is  a 
pretty  deep  shade  of  dark  on  the  outside,  but  he's 
white  clean  through  under  the  hide  of  him.  And 
I've  got  it  clear  in  my  head  that  he'll  never  quit 
on  the  trail  until  he's  squared  accounts  with 
Courtot." 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Carr  carelessly  after  a  mo 
ment,  "  the  professor  seems  all  excited  about  some 
thing  or  other  this  morning.  What's  it  all  about?" 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  countered  Howard. 
162 


The  Golden  Secret 

"  Oh,  nothing.  Only  from  the  way  he  grabbed 
on  to  you  I  fancied  that  he  had  told  you.  I  thought 
that  if  there  were  anything  I  could  do  for  him — " 

"  No.  There's  nothing.  He  did  tell  me,  but  he 
asked  me  not  to  say  anything  about  it.  I'll  tell  you 
as  soon  as  I  can,  John.  Tonight,  maybe,  or  to 


morrow." 


"  Oh,'*  said  Carr.  "  I  didn't  mean  to  stampede 
in  on  a  secret."  He  turned  to  other  matters  and 
presently  they  fell  silent,  jogging  along  together, 
their  eyes  for  the  most  part  upon  the  girl  riding 
ahead  of  them. 

"  Papa,"  Helen  was  saying  at  her  first  oppor 
tunity,  "where  has  Mr.  Howard  been?" 

"  I  have  no  idea,  my  dear,"  said  her  father 
placidly. 

"  What!  You  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  two  have 
done  all  the  talking  you  have,  and  that  he  hasn't  said 
a  word  about  where  he  has  been  hiding  himself  all 
this  week?" 

"  Not  a  word." 

"  Hm,"  said  Miss  Helen,  "that's  funny."  And 
then,  "  Papa,  do  you  know  if  he  has  had  trouble 
with  anyone  lately?" 

'What  makes  you  ask  that?"  he  queried  un 
easily,  and  Helen  sat  straighter  in  the  saddle  and 
looked  him  full  in  the  face.  For  now  she  was  posi 
tive  that  Alan  had  had  trouble  and  that  her  father 
knew  about  it. 

Longstreet  hesitated.  He  had  no  desire  to  re 
count  his  experience  at  Moraga's  saloon  in  Big  Run. 
He  had  judged  himself  fortunate  since  the  affair 

163 


pr 

Desert  Valley 

that  Helen  had  been  so  absorbed  in  her  new  environ 
ment  that  she  had  not  thought  to  call  upon  him 
for  an  accounting  of  the  family  funds.  But,  even  so, 
all  along  he  had  had  a  sort  of  fatalistic  fear  that  in 
the  end  she  would  know  everything.  She  always 
did. 

"  Well,"  said  Helen  commandingly,  "  tell  me  all 
about  it." 

"Eh?"    He  started  guiltily.    "About  what?" 
"  About    Mr.    Howard's    trouble    with    another 


man." 


Then  Longstreet  told  her  what  he  must.  How, 
while  he  was  with  Barbee  a  man  named  Jim  Courtot 
had  joined  them.  How  Howard  had  happened 
along,  looking  for  him,  and  had  said  that  Jim 
Courtot  was  no  gentleman.  Ahem! — he  had  said 
it  very  emphatically,  very.  Longstreet  did  not  recall 
the  exact  terms  employed,  but  their  purport  was  that 
Courtot  was  a  crook  and  a — a  man  killer.  Courtot 
had  whipped  out  a  revolver,  Howard  had  hurled 
himself  upon  him  and  had  knocked  him  down. 
Table  and  chairs  were  overturned,  and  at  first  Long- 
street  thought  that  Courtot  was  dead.  He  was  still 
unconscious  when  they  left. 

"Table?"  said  Helen.  "And  chairs?  Where 
were  you?  In  whose  house?  For  this  didn't 
happen  at  the  hotel  and  there  was  no  table  in  the 


store." 


"  In  the — the  house  of  a  man  named  Moraga, 
I  believe,"  Longstreet  answered  hurriedly. 

Helen  looked  at  him  severely. 

"A  saloon,  wasn't  it?"  she  asked,  quite  as  a 
school  teacher  may  put  a  leading  question  to  a 

164 


The  Golden  Secret 

squirming  little  boy.  When  he  did  not  answer  im 
mediately,  Helen  did  not  wait. 

"  I  think,"  she  informed  him  judicially,  "  that  it 
will  be  better  for  you  if  I  don't  lose  sight  of  you 
in  these  cattle  and  mining  towns  after  this.  And  it 
would  be  a  better  thing  for  Mr.  Howard  if  he  did 
not  frequent  such  places." 

"  But  you  sent  him  for  me !  " 

Helen  merely  sniffed  at  him.  She  was  wondering 
if  Jim  Courtot  really  were  a  man  killer.  She  shud 
dered.  Then  she  set  her  brain  to  work  upon  the 
name — Jim  Courtot.  It  had  a  familiar  ring;  cer 
tainly  she  had  heard  it  before.  She  and  her  father 
rode  on  in  silence.  She  could  hear  Alan  and  Carr 
talking  together  again.  Suddenly  she  remembered. 
It  had  been  that  afternoon  when  they  went  to  Big 
Run.  The  two  men  had  spoken  of  Mrs.  Murray, 
remarking  that  she  was  in  town.  It  had  been  Alan 
who  had  said  on  the  heels  of  this  remark: 

"  I'll  bet  you  Jim  Courtot  has  turned  up  again !  " 

That  was  it!  Sanchia  Murray — Jim  Courtot. 
What  had  the  one  to  do  with  the  other?  Had  the 
enmity  of  the  two  men,  Howard  and  Courtot,  be 
gun  over  Sanchia  Murray? 

When  they  came  to  the  ranch  house  and  Alan 
was  at  her  side  to  help  her  to  the  ground,  Helen 
said,  "  No,  thank  you,"  quite  stiffly  and  slipped 
down  unaided. 


165 


CHAPTER  XVI 
SANCHIA  SCHEMES 

CHANCE  had -it  that  the  very  first  individual 
they  saw  in  Big  Run  was  Sanchia  Murray. 
She  was  in  white  and  looked  fresh  and  cool  and 
girlish  and  inviting  as  she  sat  idling  upon  the  porch 
at  the  hotel.  When  she  saw  them  she  smiled  en 
gagingly. 

Only  a  minute  ago  as  they  turned  into  the  hot, 
deserted  street  Alan  Howard  had  suggested:  "  We'd 
better  have  lunch  at  the  hotel  and  ride  on  to  San 
Ramon  afterwards."  Helen  now  told  herself 
wisely  that  he  had  known  Mrs.  Murray  would  be 
at  the  hotel.  She  turned  to  wave  to  John  Carr,  who 
had  said  good-by  at  the  outskirts  of  Big  Run;  he 
claimed  that  he  had  been  away  from  home  long 
enough  and  had  some  business  waiting  on  his  return. 

"  He's  perfectly  splendid,  don't  you  think,  Mr. 
Howard?"  Helen  asked  brightly,  quite  as  if  she 
had  not  yet  seen  Sanchia. 

"  Yes,"  he  rejoined  warmly.  "  He's  the  best 
friend  a  man  ever  had." 

They  dismounted,  and  Sanchia  Murray  was  not 
to  be  ignored  longer.  She  hurried  forward  and  gave 
both  hands  at  the  same  time,  one  to  Helen,  one  to 
Longstreet.  Howard,  who  held  back  a  pace,  fully 
occupying  his  own  hands  with  the  reins  of  the  three 
horses,  she  treated  to  a  quick,  friendly  nod.  He 

1 66 


Sanchia  Schemes 

turned  away  to  the  stable  as  the  Longstreets  and 
Sanchia  took  chairs  on  the  porch.  Helen  was  cool 
but  civil;  she  did  not  like  the  woman  and  yet  she 
had  no  sufficient  cause  to  be  downright  rude  as  she 
was  inclined  to  be.  Longstreet,  on  the  other  hand, 
as  he  made  himself  comfortable,  considered  Sanchia 
Murray  as  nice  and  friendly  and  pleasant. 

They  chatted  about  this,  that  and  the  other  thing, 
all  inconsequential  and  Helen  had  to  admit  that 
Sanchia  had  her  charm,  that  she  was  vivacious  and 
clever  and  pretty.  Helen  contented  herself  for  the 
most  part  with  a  quiet  "  Yes  "  or  "  No,"  and  sat 
back  and  made  her  judgments.  In  the  first  place, 
Sanchia  was  no  woman's  woman  but  the  type  to  lead 
a  heedless  man  to  make  a  fool  of  himself.  In  the 
second  place,  and  even  when  she  was  laughing,  her 
dark  eyes  were  quick  and  filled  with  a  look  of  re 
markable  keenness.  And,  finally,  it  appeared  that 
she  felt  a  very  strong  interest  in  Longstreet. 

"'She's  nothing  but  a  flirt,"  thought  Helen  with 
something  of  disgust  and  utterly  without  realization 
that  she  herself  had  come  perilously  close  to  flirting 
with  John  Carr  not  so  long  ago — though  of  course 
with  ample  reason !  "  She'd  look  like  that  at  any 
man,  were  he  in  knee-breeches  or  as  old  as  dad." 

Howard  came,  and  presently  they  went  into  the 
darkened  dining-room.  Sanchia  was  entertaining 
Longstreet  with  an  account  of  her  first  coming  into 
this  perfectly  dreadful  country,  and  so  it  came 
about  that  Helen  and  Alan  entered  together  and 
found  chairs  side  by  side.  Since  for  the  greater 
part  of  the  meal  Sanchia  monopolized  the  university 
man,  Alan  and  Helen  were  left  largely  to  them- 

167 


Desert  Valley 

selves.  And,  largely,  they  were  silent.  He  sought 
to  engage  her  in  talk  some  two  or  three  times,  found 
her  quiet  and  listless,  and  in  the  end  gave  up  all 
attempt  at  conversation.  After  lunch,  while  Mrs. 
Murray's  tongue  was  still  racing  merrily  for  the 
benefit  of  the  professor,  Howard  succeeded  in  get 
ting  Helen  alone  at  the  far  end  of  the  porch. 

"  Look  here,  Helen,"  he  said  after  his  outright 
style,  "what's  the  matter?  What  have  I  done?" 

"Helen?"  she  repeated  after  him. 

"  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Helen,  or  Miss 
Longstreet,  or  Your  Ladyship.  That  Helen  just 
slipped  out." 

"  So  I  noticed.  Is  it  a  little  habit  of  yours  calling 
girls  by  their  first  names  when — " 

"  I  don't  know  any  girls,"  he  cut  in  vigorously. 

She  lifted  her  brows  at  him. 

"How  about  Sanchia  Murray?    Isn't  she — " 

"  Damn  Sanchia  Murray,"  he  said  savagely. 
"  I'm  talking  about  you !  You  and  me." 

Helen  gasped.  Either  his  oath  shocked  her  or 
she  gave  a  very  excellent  imitation  of  a  maiden 
thunder-stricken  by  such  language  as  she  had  never 
dreamed  a  man  could  employ.  Certainly  not  a  man 
who  had  the  slightest  claim  to  the  title  of  a  gentle 
man. 

"  1  beg  your  pardon  again,"  muttered  Howard. 
"  That's  twice.  And  now  tell  me,  will  you,  what 
I've  done?" 

Just  what  had  he  done  ?  Helen  had  to  think  fast. 
He  was  tall  and  straight  and  manly,  he  stood  look 
ing  honestly  into  her  eyes,  he  was  good  to  look 
upon  and  he  struck  her  as  very  much  of  a  man  all 

1 68 


Sanchia  Schemes 

the  way  through.  Further,  he  had  said  "  Damn 
Sanchia  Murray,"  quite  as  though  he  meant  it  with 
all  his  heart.  Just  what  had  he  done? 

"Are  you  going  to  tell  me?"  he  was  asking 
again.  "  That's  only  fair,  you  know." 

"Don't  you  know?"  countered  Helen.  She 
looked  the  part  of  a  girl  who  knows  very  well  her 
self,  but  is  in  doubt  whether  or  not  she  should  speak 
about  it. 

"  No,"  he  told  her  vigorously,  "  honest  to 
grandma  I  don't.  But  I'm  sorry,  just  the  same." 

Then,  all  suddenly  and  with  no  premeditation, 
Helen  smiled  and  Alan  Howard's  heart  grew  warm. 

"  Maybe  sometime  I'll  tell  you,"  she  informed 
him.  "  If  you  didn't  mean  it,  we'll  forget  it  now. 
And  I'll  try  to  believe  that  you  didn't  mean  any 
thing." 

He  was  considerably  puzzled.  He  scratched  his 
head  and  wondered.  So  there  was  something,  then, 
that  he  had  done  to  offend  her?  Then  he  was  a 
low-lived  dog  and  should  have  been  choked  to 
death.  He  couldn't  know  that  there  was  really  noth 
ing  in  the  world  wrong  and  never  had  been  anything 
wrong;  that  merely  Helen  had  been  musing  upon  a 
mare's  name  and  that  she  had  missed  him  and  did 
not  intend  that  he  should  know  it  and  had  resorted 
to  the  ancient  womanly  trick  of  smiling  upon  another 
man.  At  least  Howard  was  relieved.  The  day 
grew  bright  again  and  he  could  find  it  in  his  heart 
to  thank  God  for  Sanchia  Murray,  who  still  monopo 
lized  Helen's  father. 

This  monopoly  was  one  which  continued  into  the 
afternoon.  For  when  time  came  to  ride  on  to  San 

169 


Desert  Valley 

Ramon,  Longstreet  stated  that  Mrs.  Murray  was 
going  with  them.  It  appeared  that  she  had  seen  a 
most  adorable  hat  there  in  the  milliner's  window 
and  had  planned  since  early  morning  upon  riding 
over  for  it.  So  when  Alan  brought  the  other  horses 
he  led  hers  with  them,  a  beautiful  white  mare,  glossy 
and  well  groomed,  trim  as  a  greyhound  and  richly 
accoutred  in  Mexican  saddle  and  Spanish  bit.  Mrs. 
Murray  kept  them  waiting  a  moment,  hardly  more. 
Then  she  appeared  dressed  *m  a  distracting  riding 
habit.  They  saw  her  leave  an  envelope  with  the  hotel- 
keeper;  they  did  not  hear  her  instructions.  Then 
all  mounted,  and  again  Howard  had  it  in  his  heart 
to  be  grateful  for  Sanchia.  For  now  he  and  Helen 
rode  together  and  far  enough  in  advance  to_be  in 
a  world  by  themselves. 

Until  this  moment  Mrs.  Murray  had  talked  about 
nothing  in  the  world  that  mattered.  But  now,  her 
eyes  watchful,  her  manner  that  of  one  who  has 
waited  long  enough  and  is  impatient,  she  said 
quickly  : 

"You  are  still  looking  for  your  gold  mine?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Longstreet.     "  Oh,  yes." 

But  on  the  instant  in  his  eye  was  that  look  of  a 
man  with  the  ace  buried.  Perhaps  Mrs.  Murray  had 
played  poker;  clearly  she  knew  something  of  poker 
faces. 

44  You  have  found  it!"  she  cried  softly.  "  Oh, 
I  am  so  glad!  " 

He  looked  at  her  wonderingly. 

"What  makes  you  say  that?"  he  stammered. 

"That  I  am  glad?  Why  shouldn't  I  be?  Why 
shouldn't  everyone  be  glad?  When  one's  friend — 

170 


Sanchia  Schemes 

oh,  but  we  are  friends,  dear  Mr.  Longstreet!  There 
is  the  one  glorious  thing  to  be  said  about  this  coun 
try,  about  all  of  the  West  back  from  the  railroads, 
that  two  persons  don't  have  to  know  each  other  a 
year  to  become  real,  true  friends.  For  your  sake 
and  for  the  sake  of  your  wonderful  daughter,  am 
I  not  to  be  genuinely  glad?" 

He  had  to  wait  to  the  end  of  the  rushing  words 
to  correct  her: 

"  I  meant  what  made  you  say  that  I  had 
found  it?" 

She  opened  her  big  eyes  at  him  like  a  baby. 

"  But  you  have,  haven't  you?  You  came  to  find 
gold;  you  brought  to  bear  upon  the  situation  your 
scientific  knowledge  instead  of  a  prospector's  poor 
brain;  and  you  have  found  gold,  I  am  sure!  "  She 
smiled  upon  him  brightly  as  she  concluded  with  a 
semblance  of  trustfulness  and  artlessness:  "  Tell  me 
the  truth;  haven't  you  found  it?" 

Suddenly  he  found  himself  hard  beset.  She  had 
gauged  him  pretty  accurately  and  therefore  had 
asked  him  the  question  pointedly.  He  must  either 
say  yes  or  no;  true,  he  might  be  rude  to  her  and 
refuse  an  answer,  but  that  would  be  equivalent  to  an 
admission.  If  he  said  "  No,"  he  would  be  lying. 
There  was  no  other  word  for  it. 

"  Well?  "  persisted  Sanchia.  She  still  smiled,  she 
was  still  extremely  kind  and  friendly,  but  it  was 
plain  that  she  would  have  her  answer. 

Still  he  hesitated.  What  were  his  reasons  for 
secrecy,  after  all?  Just  to  spring  a  surprise  for 
Helen  on  her  birthday.  He  had  already  told  Alan. 
;A  secret  is  a  rather  dull  and  stupid  affair  unless  it  is 

171 


Desert  Valley 

shared.  Mrs.  Murray  was  all  that  was  sympathetic; 
she  would  rejoice  with  him. 

"  I  had  not  planned  to  say  anything  about  it  yet," 
he  began  hesitantly. 

uOh!"  she  cried  joyously.  "  It's  wonderful, 
wonderful,  wonderful!  I  am  so  glad!  Tell  me 
about  it.  All  about  it,  every  word." 

Longstreet's  smile  answered  her  own.  And,  of 
course,  he  told. 

"  Only,"  he  warned  her,  "  I  am  keeping  it  a  secret 
for  a  little.  Helen  doesn't  know.  Next  week 
is  her  birthday.  I  am  going  to  give  it  to  hei 
then." 

Mrs.  Murray  dropped  her  reins  long  enough  to 
clap  her  gauntleted  hands.  Then  she  elicited  the 
whole  story.  She  asked  to  be  informed  how  he  knew 
he  had  really  found  gold;  she  expressed  her  child 
like  wonder  at  his  great  wisdom;  she  was  breathless 
with  admiration  after  a  fashion  which  made  him 
glow;  and  meantime  she  learned  exactly  where  the 
place  was  and  saw  his  specimens.  As  she  took  them 
into  her  own  hands  her  eyes  were  lowered  so  that 
they  were  hidden;  but  when  she  looked  up  they  were 
shining. 

"  Give  me  one  of  them,  just  one,"  she  pleaded. 
"Won't  you?  I  should  so  dearly  love  to  keep  it 
for  a  souvenir  of  this  happiness  which  is  coming  to 
you."  She  sighed.  Then,  in  a  faint,  quiet  little 
voice:  "  Maybe  I  am  asking  too  much?" 

u  No,  no,"  returned  Longstreet  stoutly.  He  se 
lected  the  finest  specimen  and  presented  it  to  her 
quite  as  a  kind  father  might  have  given  a  stick  of 
candy  to  his  little  girl.  "  It  is  very  kind  of  you  to 

172 


Sanchia  Schemes 

rejoice  with  us  in  the  good  fortune  which  is  begin 
ning  to  come  our  way.  Just  beginning,"  he  added 
with  grave  assurance. 

"  I'll  have  a  locket  made  of  it,"  said  Sanchia. 
Now  for  a  little  it  was  Longstreet  who  did  the  talk 
ing.  She  grew  thoughtful,  nodding  now  and  then  or 
answering  absent-mindedly. 

4  You'll  begin  work  soon?"  she  asked  abruptly. 

"  Immediately.  That's  what  I'm  going  into  San 
Ramon  today  for.  There  are  certain  necessary 
papers  to  be  drawn,  you  know,  in  order  to  file  prop 
erly.  Then  I'm  going  to  get  some  men  and  teams 
and  explosives  and  tools  and  begin  development 


tomorrow." 


More  thoughtful  still  grew  Sanchia,  biting  her 
lips,  frowning,  hiding  her  eyes  under  her  wide  hat. 
Once  she  looked  up  quickly  and  studied  his  eager 
face,  her  eyes  keen  and  searching.  Then,  still  watch 
ing  him  for  the  slightest  change  of  expression,  she 
said: 

"  Maybe  I  can  be  of  assistance  to  you.  You  will 
be  busy  enough  getting  your  crew  and  implements. 
I  know  everybody  in  San  Ramon;  George  Harkness, 
at  the  courthouse,  is  the  man  to  arrange  your 
papers  and  he  is  an  old  friend  of  mine.  I  am  going 
to  see  him  anyway  today,  and  if  you  like  I  can 
have  him  do  everything  for  you  and  send  you  your 
papers  next  week.  It  requires  several  days,  you 
know,"  and  by  now  her  intent  regard  had  assured 
her  that  he  knew  absolutely  nothing  in  the  world 
about  it. 

Longstreet  demurred.  He  wasn't  certain  that  it 
could  be  done  this  way,  nor  did  he  like  the  idea  of 

173 


Desert  Valley 

imposing  upon  her.  But,  she  told  him  quickly  it 
could  be  done;  she  had  acted  for  another  gentle 
man  in  this  capacity,  Mr.  Nate  Kemble  of  the 
Quigley  mines.  She  knew  all  about  it.  As  for  im 
position,  she  broke  into  a  timid  little  laugh. 

"  I  am  a  rather  helpless  and  I  am  afraid  stupid 
sort  of  a  little  woman,"  she  confessed.  "  I  have  to 
make  my  own  way  in  the  world,  and  this  is  one  of 
the  ways  I  do  it.  If,  when  everything  is  properly 
concluded,  you  feel  that  I  have  really  been  of  assist 
ance  and  care  to  send  me  a  small  check,  just  for 
services  rendered,  you  understand,  why — " 

He  saw  the  matter  immediately  in  the  desired 
light. 

1  Then,"  he  told  her  heartily,  "  I  shall  be  de 
lighted  to  have  you  see  Mr.  Harkness  for  me.  You 
are  very  kind,  Mrs.  Murray.  And,  as  you  say,  I 
can  give  my  attention  exclusively  to  the  other  end 
of  the  business.  As  to  the  location  of  the  spot  so 
that  the  papers — " 

"Oh,  that  part  is  all  right!  I  know  just  where 
the  Dry  Gulch  is  and  so  will  George  when  he  looks 
it  up  on  his  maps.  You  won't  have  to  worry  about 
that  in  the  least." 

Again  Sanchia  grew  silent  and  thoughtful.  Be 
fore  them,  side  by  side,  went  Helen  and  Howard. 
She  watched  them  and  held  her  horse  back  so  that 
she  and  Longstreet  would  not  come  any  closer  to 
them.  Finally  she  made  her  second  suggestion, 
watching  as  before  the  play  of  Longstreet's  expres 
sion. 

"You  have  told  Mr.  Howard?" 

"  Yes.     No  one  else." 

174 


Sanchia  Schemes 

"  He  understands  that  you  wish  to  keep  your 
secret  from  Helen?" 

"  Yes." 

'*  Then,  suppose  we  do  this :  As  we  come  into 
town  I  must  leave  you  a  moment  to  ride  by  the  mil 
liner's  and  be  sure  that  she  holds  that  hat  for  me; 
she  lives  on  a  side  street.  You  can  ride  with  the 
others  to  the  hotel,  for  you  will  have  to  stay  all 
night  there;  it  will  be  impossible  for  you  to  get 
everything  done  before  dark.  And,  after  all,  maybe 
it  would  be  better  if  you  come  with  me  to  the  court 
house.  I  want  you  at  least  to  meet  Mr.  Harkness. 
I  will  attend  to  everything  for  you;  you  can  rejoin 
Helen  and  Mr.  Howard.  And  I  think  he  will 
understand  if  you  suggest  that  he  stay  with  Helen 
at  the  hotel  while  you  ride  down  to  the  post 
office  to  mail  a  letter,  let's  say.  I  wouldn't  men 
tion  courthouse,"  she  added,  "  as  Helen  might 
guess." 

During  the  remaining  hour  of  jogging  slowly 
through  the  sunshine  Sanchia  Murray  elaborated 
her  plans,  all  directed  toward  the  double  end  of 
hastening  Longstreet's  venture  and  keeping  his 
secret  from  Helen.  She  went  into  detail,  secured 
his  consent  upon  each  point  or  swiftly  withdrew  it 
to  make  another  suggestion  and  in  the  end  awoke 
in  him  a  keen  sense  of  her  generosity.  When  they 
came  to  the  first  buildings  of  the  straggling  town 
she  waved  her  hand  gaily,  swung  off  into  a  side 
street,  and  he  rode  on  to  overtake  Alan  and  Helen. 
Once  around  a  corner  Sanchia  put  spurs  to  her  mare, 
struck  the  sweating  shoulders  with  her  quirt  and 
raced  on  her  way  through  puffing  clouds  of  dust  and 

175 


Desert  Valley 

barking  dogs  as  though  all  leisureliness  were  gone 
before  a  sudden  vital  need  for  haste.  Before  the 
party  of  three  had  come  within  sight  of  the  hotel 
she  had  swung  down  from  her  saddle  at  the  back 
door  of  the  Montezuma  House.  And  everyone  who 
knows  San  Ramon  knows  the  Montezuma,  and 
everyone  who  knows  the  place  knows  a  house  of 
sinister  reputation. 

At  the  hotel  Howard  dismounted  first  to  give  his 
hand  to  Helen.  This  time  she  accepted  it  and  even 
repaid  him  with  a  quick  smile.  Longstreet,  while 
Helen  was  dismounting,  tipped  the  cattleman  a  sly 
wink.  It  was  meant  to  be  full  of  meaning  but  only 
succeeded  in  making  Howard  wonder. 

"  If  you  two  will  wait  for  me  a  moment,"  said 
Longstreet  making  a  perfectly  transparent  pretense 
of  having  nothing  of  importance  on  his  mind,  "  I  am 
going  to  ride  over  to  the  post  office.  It's  just  over 
yonder.  You'll  be  on  the  porch  when  I  come  back?  " 
and  without  waiting  for  a  reply  he  clucked  to  his 
horse  and  trotted  away.  Helen  looked  after  him  in 
surprise. 

"  Papa's  up  to  something  he  ought  to  leave 
alone,"  she  decided  wisely.  She  turned  to  remount. 
"  We'd  better  follow  him  and—" 

Suddenly  her  expression  altered.  Her  eyes 
softened  and  she  smiled. 

"  I  know,"  she  added.  "  No,  we  mustn't  follow 
him.  And  he'll  be  gone  an  hour." 

"  What  is  it?  "  wondered  Alan. 

"  I  am  not  quite  old  enough  to  stop  having  birth 
days,"  she  explained.  "  He's  just  slipping  off  mys 
teriously  as  usual  to  buy  something  expensive  and 

176 


Sanchia  Schemes 

foolish  for  me.  He's  just  about  the  dearest  old 
dad  in  the  world." 

So  they  tied  their  horses  and  went  into  the  cool 
of  the  shady  porch.  Because  they  had  matters  of 
their  own  to  talk  about,  they  did  not  concern  them 
selves  further  with  the  eccentricities  of  a  fond 
parent.  Meantime  Longstreet,  chuckling  as  he 
went,  rode  by  the  post  office  to  establish  a  sort  of 
moral  alibi  and  thence  proceeded  to  the  courthouse. 
He  found  it  readily,  a  square,  paintless  dusty  build 
ing  upon  a  dying  lawn.  Sanchia,  looking  flushed 
and  hot,  was  waiting  for  him  under  a  tree  in 
front. 

"  Mr.  Harkness  is  out,"  she  told  him  immediately. 
"  And  as  it  happens,  there  is  no  one  in  the  office. 
But  I  have  found  where  his  assistant  is.  He  is 
Mr.  Bates,  and  he  has  had  a  hard  day,  it  seems, 
and  is  now  having  a  late  lunch  at  the  Montezuma 
House.  We  are  to  ride  over  there." 

This  satisfied  him,  and  together  they  rode  through 
the  back  street  and  to  the  rear  entrance  of  the 
gambling-house.  Here  they  dismounted  and  left 
their  horses,  Sanchia  going  before  him. 

"  We'll  go  in  the  back  way,"  she  told  him,  "  as 
I  do  not  care  to  come  to  such  places,  and  if  I  must 
come,  I'd  rather  it  wasn't  known.  Tongues  are  so 
eager  to  wag  when  one  is  a  woman  deprived  of  a 
protector.  The  men  from  the  courthouse  some 
times  come  here  for  their  meals." 

She  showed  him  the  way  under  a  long  grapevine 
arbor  and  to  a  door  which  she  opened.  There  was 
a  dark,  cool  hall  and  another  door  opening  upon 
a  small  room  in  which  they  could  see  a  man  sitting 

177 


Desert  Valley 

at  a  table  with  a  cup  of  coffee  and  some  sandwiches 
before  him. 

"  I  don't  know  Mr.  Bates  personally,"  whispered 
Sanchia.  u  But  he  knows  who  I  am  and  will  do 
quite  as  well  as  Mr.  Harkness." 

"You  are  Mr.  Bates,  aren't  you?"  she  asked 
from  the  doorway.  "Mr.  Harkness's  assistant?" 

The  man  at  the  table  nodded. 

*  Yes.  Come  in.  You  are  Mrs.  Murray?  I 
have  heard  Harkness  mention  you.  If  there  is  any 
thing  I  can  do  for  you  ?  "  His  eye  traveled  slowly 
to  Longstreet. 

The  man  was  not  a  pleasant  type,  thought  Long- 
street.  He  was  swarthy  and  squat  and  had  an  eye 
that  slunk  away  from  his  visitors'.  But  it  appeared 
that  he  was  kindly  and  eager  to  accommodate.  He 
got  up  and  closed  the  door  and  once,  after  they  had 
begun  talking,  went  on  tiptoe  to  open  it  again  and 
peered  out  into  the  hall  as  though  he  suspected  that 
someone  was  listening.  He  seemed  a  broad-minded 
chap,  waving  technicalities  aside,  assuring  Longstreet 
that  what  he  wanted  done  was  quite  the  simplest 
thing  in  the  world.  No,  it  was  not  necessary  for 
him  to  come  in  person  to  the  office;  Bates  himself 
was  authorized  to  make  the  necessary  entries  and 
draw  up  the  papers.  Oh,  yes;  he  knew  all  about 
Dry  Gulch.  But  he  did  not  seem  in  the  least  excited 
about  the  discovery;  in  fact,  at  the  end  of  the  con 
versation,  he  said  dryly  that  he  feared  that  the 
mine  would  not  pan  out.  Other  men  had  thought 
before  now  that  they  had  found  gold  in  the  Last 
Ridge  country,  and  their  findings  had  never 
amounted  to  anything. 

178 


Sanchia  Schemes 

"I'll  mail  the  papers  to  you  at  Big  Run,"  he  said, 
rising  at  the  end  of  the  interview.  "  There  will  be 
a  small  fee  which  you  may  pay  at  your  convenience." 

The  three  went  out  together.  Bates  waved  a 
genial  good-by  and  strode  off  toward  the  courthouse. 
Suddenly  Sanchia  appeared  restless,  almost  feverish 
to  be  gone. 

"  I  must  hurry  back  to  the  milliner's,"  she  said. 
"  Good-by." 

Longstreet,  abruptly  deserted  by  his  two  com 
panions,  mounted  to  return  to  the  hotel.  But 
Sanchia  suddenly  came  back  to  him. 

"  I'd  rather  you  didn't  say  anything  about  my 
helping  you,"  she  said  hurriedly.  "I  don't  like  the 
idea  of  coming  to  a  place  like  the  Montezuma,  even 
upon  a  business  matter  of  urgency,  like  yours.  Mr. 
Howard  has  such  old-fashioned  ideas,  too,  and  he 
might  misunderstand.  And  even  Helen —  You 
won't  mention  me  at  all,  will  you?" 

Again  her  smile  was  pleading,  child-like.  Long- 
street  assured  her  that  he  would  respect  her  wishes. 

"  You  can  just  say  to  Mr.  Howard  that  you  saw 
Bates  and  got  everything  in  shape,"  she  suggested. 
"  Good-by." 

She  was  gone,  racing  again,  riding  toward  the 
milliner's — and,  when  once  out  of  Longstreet's  sight, 
turning  into  the  road  beyond  which  led  to  Big  Run. 


179 


CHAPTER  XVII 
HOWARD  HOLDS  THE  GULCH 

"TOOK    at    the    mysterious    gentleman ! "    said 

I  J  Helen,  laughing,  as  her  father  returned  to 
them  upon  the  hotel  porch.  Longstreet  observed 
that  she  appeared  to  be  in  the  best  of  spirits.  u  Look 
at  the  light  in  his  eye !  Can't  you  just  tell  that  he 
thinks  he  has  a  secret?  Papa,"  and  she  squeezed 
his  arm,  "  won't  you  ever  learn  that  with  that  face 
of  yours  you  couldn't  hide  what  you  are  thinking 
to  save  your  life  ?  " 

For  the  second  time  that  day  Longstreet  winked 
slyly  at  Howard.  His  laughter,  as  gay  as  Helen's, 
bubbled  up  straight  from  his  soul. 

"  Helen,"  he  said  as  soberly  as  he  might,  "  I  am 
afraid  that  we  shall  have  to  leave  you  to  your  own 
devices  for  an  hour  or  so.  Mr.  Howard  and  I 
have  a  little  business  together." 

"  Oh,"  said  Helen.  She  studied  her  father's  face 
gravely,  then  turned  toward  Alan.  She  knew  all 
along  that  her  father  was  planning  some  sort  of 
birthday  surprise  for  her,  and  now  she  could  not  but 
wonder  what  it  was  that  had  called  the  cattleman 
in  to  Longstreet's  aid.  For  the  thought  of  the  two 
men  really  having  business  together  struck  her  as 
quite  absurd. 

"  I  have  been  dying  to  be  alone,"  she  said  quickly. 
"  There  is  an  ice-cream  shop  across  the  street,  and 

1 80 


Howard  Holds  the  Gulch 

it's  so  much  more  comfortable  on  a  day  like  this 
not  to  have  a  man  along  counting  the  dishes  you 
order.  Good-by,  business  men,"  and  rather  than  be 
the  one  deserted  she  left  them  and  ran  across  the 
street,  vanishing  within  the  inviting  door. 

"  I  have  already  arranged  the  matter  of  filing  on 
my  claim,"  said  Longstreet,  turning  triumphantly 
to  Howard.  "  I  saw  Bates,  George  Harkness'  as 
sistant,  and  he  has  undertaken  to  do  everything  im 
mediately." 

"  I  know  Bates.  He's  a  good  man,  better  for 
your  work  than  Harkness  even."  He  spoke  with 
out  a  great  amount  of  interest  in  the  subject,  and 
there  was  something  of  downright  wistfulness  in  his 
look  which  had  followed  Helen  across  the  street. 

They  walked  a  short  block  in  silence.  Longstreet, 
glancing  at  his  companion  and  noting  his  abstrac 
tion,  was  glad  that  there  were  no  questions  to  an 
swer.  After  all,  it  was  going  to  be  very  simple  to 
keep  Mrs.  Murray's  name  out  of  the  whole  mat 
ter.  When  they  came  to  the  corner  and  he  asked 
"Which  way?"  Howard  actually  started. 

"  Guess  I  was  wool-gathering,"  he  grunted  sheep 
ishly.  "  We  go  back  this  way." 

They  retraced  their  steps  half  the  way,  crossed 
the  quiet  street  and  turned  in  at  a  hardware  store. 
Howard  led  the  way  to  the  tiny  office  at  the  front, 
whose  open  windows  looked  out  on  the  street.  A 
ruddy-faced  man  in  shirt  sleeves  sat  with  his  hands 
clasped  behind  his  head,  his  eyes  thoughtful.  See 
ing  his  callers,  he  jumped  to  his  feet. 

"Put  her  there,  Al,  old  boy,"  he  called  in  a 
big,  booming,  good-natured  voice  like  a  young 

181 


Desert  Valley 

bull's.  "  Watched  you  go  by  and  wondered  if  you 
weren't  coming  in.  Haven't  seen  you  since  old  Buck 
was  a  calf.  Where  you  been  keeping  yourself?" 
His  big  smile  widened.  "  Courtot  hasn't  got  you 
hiding  out,  has  he?  " 

"  So  you've  heard  that  Courtot  stuff,  too?  Pony, 
this  is  a  friend  of  mine.  Mr.  Longstreet,  Pony 
Lee."  While  they  shook  hands  Howard  added: 
"  Lee  here  knows  more  about  practical  mining 
than  any  other  foot-loose  stranger  this  side  the 
Alleghanies." 

"Draw  it  mild,  Al,"  laughed  Lee.  "  Glad  to 
know  you,  Longstreet.  Think  I've  heard  of  you." 

He  indicated  chairs  and  the  three  sat  down. 
Longstreet,  looking  curiously  at  the  man,  noted  that 
whereas  he  was  florid  and  jolly  and  gave  the  im 
pression  at  first  almost  of  joviality,  upon  closer 
scrutiny  that  which  was  most  pronounced  about  him 
was  the  keen  glint  of  his  probing  grey  eyes.  He 
came  to  learn  later  that  Pony  Lee  had  the  reputa 
tion  of  being  both  a  good  fellow  and  a  fighting  man. 

"  Longstreet  wants  to  spin  you  a  little  yarn,"  said 
Howard.  "  And  if  you  will  see  him  through,  I 
imagine  he's  going  to  have  a  job  open  for  you." 

"Mine,  of  course?"  suggested  Lee. 

"  Yes." 

"  Have  a  cigar,"  invited  Lee.  He  produced  a 
box  from  a  desk  drawer.  "  See  if  I  can  guess  where 
it  is.  Other  side  of  Big  Run?  " 

Howard  nodded. 

"Who  found  it?" 

"  I  did,"  answered  Longstreet.     "  Yesterday." 

"Last  Ridge  country,  then.  Hm."  He  rolled 
182 


Howard  Holds  the  Gulch 

his  cigar  in  his  mouth  idly.  Then  he  sat  bolt  up 
right  and  leaned  forward.  "  How  many  people 
have  you  told  about  it  already?  A  dozen?  " 

It- was  little  less  than  accusation,  and  Longstreet 
flushed.  He  was  opening  his  lips  to  answer  stiffly 
when  Howard  spoke  for  him. 

"  He  is  keeping  it  to  himself.  He  has  told  no 
one  but  me." 

Lee  sank  back  in  his  chair,  and  when  he  spoke 
again  it  was  in  a  careless,  offhand  manner. 

"  Half  an  hour  ago  I  saw  Monte  Devine.  He 
came  tearing  down  the  street,  hell-bent-for-election. 
Down  at  the  saloon  on  the  corner  he  picked  up  two 
men  you  know,  Al.  One  of  them  was  Jake  Bettins 
and  the  other  was  Ed  True.  The  three  hit  the  pike 
at  a  regular  two-forty  clip  for  the  Big  Run  road. 
Those  birds  don't  go  chasing  around  on  a  day  like 
this  just  to  get  sunburn,  do  they?" 

Howard  frowned.  "  Monte  Devine?"  he  mut 
tered,  staring  at  Lee.  But  Lee,  instead  of  taking  the 
trouble  to  give  the  necessary  assurance  again,  turned 
his  eyes  upon  Longstreet. 

"  Filed  on  your  claim  yet?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Yes,"  retorted  Longstreet,  feeling  inexplicably 
ill  at  ease  and  shifting  in  his  chair.  "  Immediately." 

"  That's  good,"  grunted  Lee.  "  But  I  would  be 
squatting  on  my  diggings  with  a  shotgun  under  my 
arm.  Al,  here,  can  tell  you  a  few  things  about 
Monte  Devine  and  his  crowd." 

"  Next  to  Lee,"  said  Howard,  "  Devine  knows 
the  mining  game  from  hackamore  to  hoof.  And 
he's  a  treacherous  hound  and  a  Jim  Courtot  man." 

u  You  said  it,  boy,"  grunted  Pony  Lee.  "  He's 
183 


Desert  Valley 

all  of  that.  And  he's  no  nickel  shooter,  either.  If 
the  game  ain't  big,  he  won't  chip  in." 

"  But,"  continued  Howard,  "  I  guess  you've 
doped  it  up  wrong,  Pony.  Chances  are  they've  got 
something  else  up  their  sleeves.  They  couldn't 
possibly  have  dropped  on  to  Longstreet's  find." 

For  a  full  minute  Lee's  eyes  bored  into  Long- 
street's.  Then  he  spoke  dryly: 

"  As  long's  the  desert  wind  blows,  word  of  a 
strike  will  go  with  it.  Maybe  I  have  got  the  wrong 
end  of  it."  He  shrugged  loosely.  "  I've  done  that 
sort  of  thing  now  and  then.  But  I  got  one  more 
thing  to  spill.  Sanchia  Murray's  in  town.  Or  she 
was  a  little  while  ago." 

Again  he  fixed  his  shrewd  eyes  upon  Longstreet's 
tell-tale  face,  which  slowly  reddened.  Pony  Lee 
grunted  and  at  last  lighted  his  cigar.  Howard,  with 
a  look  of  sheer  amazement,  stared  at  Helen's  father. 

"  You  didn't  tell  Sanchia?  "  he  gasped. 

They  got  their  answer  in  a  perfect  silence.  Lee 
laughed  somewhere  deep  down  in  his  throat. 
Howard  simply  sat  and  stared.  Then  suddenly  he 
sprang  to  his  feet  and  grasped  Longstreet  by  both 
shoulders,  jerking  him  up  out  of  his  chair. 

"  Tell  me  about  it,"  he  commanded  sternly. 
"What  did  you  tell  her?" 

"  Everything,"  returned  the  bewildered  college 
man.  "  Why  shouldn't  I?  She  promised  not  to  say 
anything." 

Howard  groaned. 

"  Oh,  hell !  "  he  muttered  and  turned  away.  But 
he  came  back  and  explained  quietly.  "  She's  as 
crooked  as  a  dog's  hind  leg;  she's  running  neck  and 

184 


Howard  Holds  the  Gulch 

neck,  fifty-fifty,  with  Jim  Courtot  and  Monte  Devine 
on  all  kinds  of  deals. — Come  on.  WeVe  got  to 
burn  the  earth  getting  back  to  Big  Run.  We'll  beat 
'em  to  it  yet." 

"  Wait  a  minute,  Al,"  called  Lee  softly.  "  Let's 
get  all  the  dope  first.  You  say,  Mr.  Longstreet, 
that  you  filed  on  your  claim  all  right?" 

Longstreet  began  to  flounder  and  halfway  through 
his  recital  bogged  down  helplessly.  He  had  met 
Sanchia  Murray,  had  gone  with  her  to  the  Monte- 
zuma  House,  had  seen  Mr.  Bates  there — 

"  What  sort  of  a  looking  gent  is  this  Mr.  Bates?  " 
quizzed  Pony  Lee  sharply. 

"  A  short  man,  dark,  black  mustaches — " 

Again  Howard  groaned.    Lee  merely  smiled. 

"Recognize  the  picture,  Al?  She  steered  him 
right  into  Monte  to  fix  his  papers !  Well,  by  God !  " 

His  expression  was  one  of  pure  admiration.  In 
his  mind  Sanchia  Murray  had  risen  to  undreamed  of 
heights — heights  of  impudence  but  none  the  less  dar 
ing.  He  could  see  the  coup  in  all  of  its  brilliance. 
But  not  so  Howard. 

"  We  saw  her  leave  a  letter  at  the  hotel  in  Big 
Run !  "  he  cried  out.  He  was  halfway  to  the  door. 
"  She  had  the  hunch  then.  By  now  Courtot  and 
Devine  and  the  rest  are  in  the  saddles  if  they  are 
not,  some  of  them,  already  squatting  on  the  job  at 
Last  Ridge !  I'm  on  my  way.  Pony,  come  alive. 
Chase  over  to  the  courthouse ;  take  Longstreet  with 
you  and  file  on  the  claim  if  it  isn't  too  late." 

As  his  last  words  came  back  to  them  he  was  out 
on  the  street  and  running.  He  knew  within  himself 
that  it  was  too  late.  They  would  find  that  Sanchia 


Desert  Valley 

or  one  of  her  crowd  had  already  visited  Harkness's 
office.  Well,  that  was  one  thing;  the  other  was  to 
take  possession.  His  boots  clattered  loudly  upon 
the  echoing  board  sidewalk  and  men  came  out  to  look 
after  him.  He  came  to  his  horse  in  front  of  the 
hotel,  snatched  the  tie-rope  loose  and  went  up  into 
the  saddle  without  bothering  about  the  spurs  hang 
ing  over  the  horn.  His  horse  plunged  under  him 
and  in  another  moment  horse  and  rider  were  racing, 
even  as  Sanchia  Murray's  white  mare  had  carried 
her,  out  toward  Big  Run. 

He  came  as  close  to  killing  a  horse  that  day  as 
he  had  ever  come  in  his  life.  His  face  grew  sterner 
as  he  flung  the  barren  miles  behind  him  and  higher 
and  higher  surged  the  bitterness  in  his  heart.  If 
Longstreet  had  found  gold,  and  he  believed  that  he 
had,  it  would  have  meant  so  much  to  Helen.  He 
had  seen  how  she  did  without  little  things;  he  had 
felt  that  she  was  just  exactly  the  finest  girl  in  all  of 
the  world;  it  had  seemed  to  him  only  the  right  and 
logical  thing  that  she  should  own  a  gold  mine.  And 
now  it  was  to  go  to  Jim  Courtot  and  Sanchia 
Murray.  Sanchia  instead  of  Helen!  At  the  mo 
ment  he  felt  that  he  could  have  choked  the  lying 
heart  out  of  the  woman's  soft  white  throat.  As  for 
Jim  Courtot,  already  he  and  Howard  hated  each 
other  as  perforce  two  men  of  their  two  types  must 
come  to  do.  Here  again  was  ample  cause  for  fresh 
hatred;  he  drove  his  tyorse  on  furiously,  anxious  to 
come  upon  Courtot,  thanking  God  in  his  heart  that 
he  could  look  to  his  enemy  for  scant  words  and  a 
quick  gun.  There  come  to  men  at  times  situations 
when  the  only  solution  is  to  be  found  in  shooting 

1 86 


Howard  Holds  the  Gulch 

a  way  out.  Now,  more  than  ever  before  in  his 
life,  was  Alan  Howard  ready  for  this  direct 
method. 

Arrived  in  Big  Run  he  rode  straight  on  until  he 
came  to  Tony  Moraga's.  Here,  if  anywhere  in  the 
settlement,  he  could  hope  to  find  his  man.  A  glance 
showed  him  one  horse  only  at  the  rack,  a  lean  sorrel 
that  he  recognized.  It  was  Yellow  Barbee's  favorite 
mount,  and  it  struck  him  that  if  there  were  further 
hard  riding  to  be  done,  here  was  the  horse  to  satisfy 
any  man.  He  threw  himself  from  the  saddle,  left 
his  own  horse  balancing  upon  its  trembling  legs,  and 
stepped  into  the  saloon. 

Moraga  was  dozing  behind  his  bar.  Yellow 
Barbee  sat  slumped  over  a  table,  his  lean,  grimy 
fingers  twisting  an  empty  glass.  No  one  else  was 
in  the  room. 

"  Courtot  been  here?"  demanded  Howard  of 
Moraga. 

Moraga  shook  his  head.  Howard  glanced  to 
ward  Barbee.  The  boy's  face  was  sullen,  his  eyes 
clouded.  He  glowered  at  Moraga  and,  turning  his 
morose  eyes  upon  Howard,  snapped  out: 

"  Moraga  lies.  Jim  was  here  a  little  while  ago. 
He's  just  beat  it  with  a  lot  of  his  rotten  crowd, 
Monte  Devine  and  Bettins  and  True.  They're  up 
to  something  crooked." 

"  I  forgot."  Moraga  laughed  greasily.  "  Jim 
was  in  the  back  room  there  talking  to  Sanchia  !  Nice 
girl,  no?"  he  taunted  Barbee. 

"  I'll  kill  you  some  day,  Moraga,"  cursed  Barbee 
thickly. 

Howard  turned  back  to  the  door. 


Desert  Valley 

"  I  want  your  horse,  Barbee,"  he  said  quickly. 
"All  right?" 

"  Go  to  it,"  Barbee  flashed  out.  "  And  if  you 
ain't  man  enough  to  get  Jim  Courtot  pretty  damn 
soon,  I  am !  " 

"  Keep  your  shirt  on,  kid,"  Howard  told  him 
coolly.  "  And  keep  your  hands  off.  And  for  God's 
sake,  stop  letting  that  woman  make  a  fool  of  you." 

Barbee  cursed  in  his  throat  and  with  burning  eyes 
watched  the  swing  doors  snap  after  the  departing 
cattleman.  Howard,  his  anger  standing  higher  and 
hotter,  threw  himself  to  the  back  of  Barbee's  roan 
and  left  Big  Run  riding  furiously  from  the  jump. 
He  knew  the  horse;  it  could  stand  the  pace  across 
the  few  miles  and  there  was  no  time  to  lose.  There 
was  scant  enough  likelihood  as  matters  were  of  his 
coming  to  Last  Ridge  before  Courtot's  crowd.  But 
the  men  might  have  failed  to  change  to  fresh  horses; 
in  that  case  his  chance  was  worth  something.  And, 
always,  until  a  game  be  played  out,  it  is  anybody's 
game. 

As  he  rode  out  toward  the  Last  Ridge  trail  his 
one  thought  was  of  Jim  Courtot.  Little  by  little  he 
lost  sight  of  other  matters.  He  had  fought  with 
Jim  Courtot  before  now;  he  had  seen  the  spit  of 
the  gambler's  gun  twice,  he  had  knocked  him  down. 
Courtot  had  hunted  him,  he  had  gone  more  than 
halfway  to  meet  the  man.  And  yet  that  which  had 
occurred  just  now  had  happened  again  and  again 
before;  he  came  seeking  Courtot,  and  Courtot  had 
just  gone.  It  began  almost  to  seem  that  Courtot 
was  fleeing  him;  that  he  had  no  stomach  for  a 
face-to-face  meeting;  that  what  he  wanted  was  to 

188 


Howard  Holds  the  Gulch 

step  out  unexpectedly  from  a  corner,  to  shoot  from 
the  dark.  This  long-drawn-out,  fruitless  seeking 
baffled  and  angered.  It  was  time,  he  thought,  high 
time  that  he  and  Jim  Courtot  shot  their  way  out  of 
an  unendurable  mess.  At  every  swinging  stride  of 
Barbee's  roan  he  grew  but  the  more  impatient  for 
the  end  of  the  ride  and  the  face  of  Jim  Courtot. 

The  broad  sun  flattened  against  the  low  hills  and 
sank  out  of  sight.  Dusk  came  and  thickened  and 
the  stars  began  to  flare  out.  Against  the  darkening 
sky  line  before  him  the  Last  Ridge  country  reared 
itself  somberly.  A  little  breeze  went  dancing  and 
shivering  through  the  dry  mesquite  and  greasewood. 
His  horse  stumbled  and  slowed  down.  They  had 
come  to  the  first  of  the  rocky  ground.  He  should 
be  at  the  mouth  of  Dry  Gulch  in  half  an  hour.  And 
there  he  would  find  the  men  he  had  followed;  they 
had  beat  him  to  it,  for  not  a  glimpse  of  them  had 
he  had.  They  were,  then,  first  on  the  ground.  That 
was  something,  he  conceded.  But  it  was  not  every 
thing. 

At  last  he  dismounted  and  tied  his  horse  to  a  bush. 
About  him  were  thick  shadows,  before  him  the  tall 
bulwark  of  the  uplands.  His  feet  were  in  a  trail 
that  he  knew.  He  went  on  up,  as  silently,  as  swiftly 
as  he  could.  Presently  he  stood  on  the  edge  of  the 
same  flat  on  which  the  Longstreets  had  made  their 
camp  though  a  good  half-mile  to  the  east  of  the 
canvas  shack.  A  wide  black  void  across  the  plateau 
was  Dry  Gulch.  Upon  its  nearer  bank,  not  a  hun 
dred  yards  from  him,  a  dry  wood  fire  blazed 
brightly;  he  must  have  seen  it  long  ago  except  that 
a  shoulder  of  the  mountain  had  hidden  it.  It  burned 

189 


Desert  Valley 

fiercely,  thrusting  its  flames  high,  sending  its  sparks 
skyward.  In  its  flickering  circle  of  light  he  saw 
dark  objects  which  he  knew  must  be  the  forms  of 
men.  He  did  not  count  them,  merely  prayed  within 
his  heart  that  Courtot  was  among  them,  and  came 
on.  He  heard  the  men  talking.  He  did  not  listen 
for  words,  since  words  did  not  matter  now.  He 
hearkened  for  a  certain  voice. 

The  voices  broke  off  and  a  man  stood  up.  When 
he  was  within  a  score  of  paces  of  the  fire  Howard 
stopped.  The  man's  thick  squat  form  was  clearly 
outlined.  Unmistakably  this  was  Monte  Devine. 
There  were  two  or  three  other  forms  squatting;  it 
was  impossible  to  distinguish  a  crouching  man  from 
a  boulder. 
/'That  you,  Monte?"  called  Howard. 

44  Good  guess/'  came  Monte's  heavy,  insolent 
voice.  '  You've  got  one  on  me,  though,  pardner." 

44  Courtot  here?"  demanded  Howard. 

Monte  Devine  laughed  then. 

44  Hello,  Al,"  he  returned  lightly.  44  You  and  Jim 
sure  play  a  great  little  game  of  tag,  don't  you?  " 

44  He  isn't  here,  then?" 

14  Left  an  hour  ago.  There's  just  me  and  Bettins 
and  True  on  the  job.  Come  on  in  and  make  your 
self  to  home." 

Howard  came  on  slowly.  Monte  might  be  telling 
the  truth  and  then  again  lying  came  easy  to  him. 
Every  dark  blot  was  searched  out  suspiciously  by 
Howard's  frowning  eyes.  Again,  having  read  what 
was  in  Howard's  mind,  Monte  laughed. 

44  He  ain't  here,  Al,"  he  insisted.  "  You  and  him 
will  have  to  make  a  date  if  you  ever  get  together." 

190 


Howard  Holds  the  Gulch 

The  two  other  men  rose  from  the  ground  and 
stood  a  little  aside.  No  doubt  they  were  True  and 
Bettins;  still  neither  had  spoken  and  in  this  uncer 
tain  light  either  might  be  Courtot. 

"Hello,  True/'  said  Howard  shortly.  True's 
voice  answered  him.  "  Hello,  Bettins,"  he  said  and 
it  was  Bettins'  voice  replying. 

"  Where  did  Jim  go?  "  he  asked. 

"  Search  me,"  retorted  Monte  Devine.  Then,  a 
hint  of  a  jeer  in  his  voice,  "  Going  to  stay  out  there 
in  the  dark  all  night?  'Fraid  Jim'll  be  hiding  out 
waiting  to  pot  you?  " 

The  other  men  laughed. 

"  That's  his  sort  of  play,"  muttered  Alan  coolly. 

He  took  his  time  to  look  about.  Little  by  little 
the  mystery  shrouding  this  and  that  object  dissolved 
and  showed  him  a  rock  or  a  bush.  He  heard  a  snap 
ping  bit  of  brush  off  to  the  right  and  wheeled  toward 
it.  It  was  a  horse  moving.  He  circled  the  fire  and 
went  to  it.  Beyond  were  two  other  horses,  only 
three  in  all.  Then  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
jammed  his  revolver  angrily  into  its  holster  and  came 
back  to  the  figures  by  the  fire. 

"  Longstreet  is  a  friend  of  mine,"  he  said  shortly. 
"  I  am  going  to  see  him  through,  Monte." 

"Who's  Longstreet?"  demanded  Monte. 

"  I  guess  you  know.  He's  the  man  who  found 
gold  up  here  yesterday.  He's  the  man  Sanchia 
Murray  brought  to  you  at  the  Montezuma  House. 
He  owns  these  diggings  that  you  and  Jim  Courtot 
and  your  crowd  are  trying  to  jump  tonight.  Better 
think  it  over  and  jump  somewhere  else,  Monte." 

Monte  Devine  appeared  to  be  meditating.  How- 
191 


Desert  Valley 

ard's  angry  thoughts  were  racing.  Rage  baffled  was 
but  baffled  again.  There  seemed  nothing  concrete 
that  he  could  lay  his  hands  on;  again  Jim  Courtot 
had  come  and  gone.  To  drive  the  men  off  the  land, 
even  could  he  succeed  in  doing  it,  would  so  far  as 
he  could  see  be  barren  of  any  desired  result.  There 
was  a  law  in  the  country,  and  that  law  would  see  the 
man  through  who  had  properly  filed  on  his  claim. 
And  yet,  for  all  that,  his  blood  grew  hot  at  the 
thought  of  all  of  this  riffraff  of  Jim  Courtot  squat 
ting  here  upon  that  which  by  right  was  Helen's. 

u  I  reckon  we'll  stay  and  see  it  through,"  said 
Monte  at  last. 

Howard  turned  and  strode  away.  True  laughed. 
But  Howard  had  seen  something  showing  whitely 
just  yonder  in  the  black  void  of  Dry  Gulch.  There 
was  the  spot  where  Longstreet's  claim  lay.  He  went 
down  into  the  gulch  and  to  the  thing  that  he  had 
seen  dimly.  It  was  a  stake  and  a  bit  of  white  paper 
thrust  into  the  split,  and  showed  him  that  the  three 
men  had  not  mistaken  the  spot.  Here,  at  last,  was 
something  concrete  upon  which  a  man,  hot  with  his 
anger,  could  lay  his  hands.  He  wrenched  it  away 
and  hurled  it  far  from  him.  He  saw  another  stake 
and  another  and  these  like  the  first  he  snatched  up 
and  pitched  wrathfully  as  far  as  he  could  throw 
them. 

"  That's  something,  if  it  isn't  much,"  he  muttered 
to  himself. 

The  others  had  held  back,  watching  him.  He 
could  hear  them  speaking  quickly  among  themselves, 
Bettins  and  True  angrily.  Monte's  voice  was  low 
and  steady.  But  it  was  Monte  who  came  on  first. 

IQ2 


Howard  Holds  the  Gulch 

"  Hold  on  there  a  minute,"  called  Howard 
sharply.  "  I'm  not  asking  any  company  down  here. 
Here  I  am  going  to  stick  until  morning.  By  that 
time,  or  I  miss  my  guess,  this  neck  of  the  woods  will 
be  full  of  people  who  have  heard  that  something's 
doing  here.  There'll  be  a  handful  of  your  crowd 
but  there'll  be  twice  as  many  square-shooters.  You'll 
stand  back  with  the  crowd  and  take  your  chance  with 
what  is  left  after  Longstreet  gets  his,  or  you'll  play 
crooked  and  take  another  chance,  that  of  a  long 
rope  and  a  quick  drop.  Think  it  over,  boys." 

"  Better  clean  out  while  you  can,  Al,"  said  Monte. 
His  own  voice  had  sharpened.  "  We're  coming 
down  to  put  them  stakes  back." 

Howard  withdrew  half  a  dozen  steps,  into  the 
deeper  shadows  of  the  gulch. 

"  Come  ahead  when  you're  ready,"  he  retorted. 
"  I  can  see  you  fine  up  there  against  the  sky  line. 
Start  it  going  any  time,  Monte." 

His  was  the  position  of  a  man  in  desperate  need 
for  action  and  with  little  enough  scope  for  his  de 
sire.  But  he  had  the  hope  that  Longstreet  and  Pony 
Lee  might  possibly  have  been  the  first  at  the  court 
house;  were  that  to  prove  to  be  the  case  and  were 
he  on  the  ground  when  they  came  in  the  morning, 
he  would  in  the  end  have  prevented  a  tangle  and 
the  long  delay  and  intricate  trouble  of  dispossessing 
Courtot's  agents.  Further,  his  mood  was  one  in 
which  he  would  have  been  glad  to  have  Monte 
"  start  it  going." 

Monte  and  his  companions  spoke  quietly  among 
themselves  a  second  time.  Then,  with  never  another 
word  to  him,  they  withdrew  and  disappeared.  An 

193 


Desert  Valley 

immense  silence  shut  down  about  him.  He  knew 
that  they  had  not  gone  far  and  that  they  would  be 
heard  from  before  long.  For  they  were  not  the 
men  to  let  go  so  easily.  But  Monte  Devine,  plainly 
the  brains  of  the  crowd,  was  a  cool  hand  who  played 
as  safe  a  game  as  circumstances  allowed. 

He  sat  down  with  his  back  to  a  fallen  boulder. 
He  was  thinking  that  perhaps  they  were  waiting  for 
the  dawn;  by  daylight  they  would  have  all  the  best 
of  it  and  might  close  in  on  him  from  three  sides. 
But  when  the  night  wind  blowing  up  the  gulch 
brought  him  the  smell  of  dead  leaves  burning,  when 
he  saw  a  quick  tongue  of  flame  on  one  bank  and 
then  another,  like  a  reflection  in  a  mirror,  on  the 
other  bank,  he  understood.  It  was  like  a  Monte 
Devine  play.  Presently  the  dry  grass  would  be  burn 
ing  all  along  the  draw;  the  flames  would  sweep  by 
him  and  in  their  light  he  would  stand  forth  as  in  the 
light  of  day.  Then,  if  there  were  a  single  rifle 
among  the  three  men,  he  would  have  not  so  much 
as  a  chance  to  fight.  Even  if  they  had  nothing  but 
revolvers,  the  odds  were  all  on  their  side. 

And  it  was  like  Jim  Courtot's  play,  too,  to  clear 
out  and  leave  his  agents  to  deal  with  the  man  he 
hated.  All  in  the  world  that  Courtot  ever  wanted 
was  to  win;  the  means  were  nothing.  If  his  enemy 
went  down  by  another  man's  bullet  than  his  own,  so 
much  the  better  for  Jim  Courtot,  who  had  always 
enough  to  answer  for  as  it  was. 

"  This  belongs  to  Helen  Longstreet,"  Howard 
told  himself  steadily.  "  I  am  going  to  hold  it  for 
her  if  it's  in  the  cards." 

He  withdrew  a  little  further.  Then,  with  a  sud- 
1194 


Howard  Holds  the  Gulch 

den  inspiration,  he  clambered  silently  up  the  sloping 
bank.  The  men  who  had  lighted  the  fires  would 
have  circled  about  to  come  upon  him  from  the  other 
side.  He  was  right.  As  he  thrust  his  head  above 
the  top  of  the  bank  he  saw  two  figures  running  in 
the  direction  that  he  had  judged  they  would  take. 
He  pulled  himself  up.  A  loosened  rock  rolled 
noisily  into  the  gulch.  They  heard  it  and  stopped. 
He  knew  when  they  saw  him  and  knew  who  they 
were  as  he  heard  them  call  to  each  other.  They 
were  Ed  True  and  Monte  Devine.  And  Ed  True, 
as  he  called,  whipped  out  his  revolver  and  fired. 

"  He's  on  this  side,  Bettins,"  called  Monte  loudly. 
"  Take  your  time." 

He  had  not  fired  nor  had  Howard.  Ed  True, 
however,  lacked  the  cool  nerve  and  emptied  his  re 
volver.  Monte  cursed  him  for  a  fool. 

"  You  couldn't  hit  a  barn  that  far  off  in  this  light," 
he  shouted.  "Take  your  time,  can't  you?" 

Howard's  lips  tightened.  That  was  Monte  De- 
vine  for  you.  Steady  and  cold  as  a  rock. 

"  We've  got  the  best  of  you,  Al,"  called  Monte 
warningly.  "  Better  crawl  out  while  you  got  the 
chance." 

"  Go  to  hell,"  Howard  told  him  succinctly.  And 
knowing  that  the  man  had  been  right  when  he  had 
said  you  couldn't  hit  a  barn  at  that  distance  and  in 
that  light,  he  came  forward  suddenly.  For  in  a 
little  the  burning  grass  would  be  behind  him  and 
outlined  against  it  the  target  of  his  body  would  be 
a  mark  for  anybody  to  hit. 

Suddenly,  having  reloaded,  True  fired  again.  But 
he  was  not  so  hurried  now.  He  fired  once  and 

19S 


Desert  Valley 

waited.  This  time  the  bullet  had  not  flown  so  far 
afield  as  the  first  shots;  Howard  heard  its  shrill 
cleaving  of  the  air.  He  saw  that  Monte  was  mov 
ing  to  one  side.  Again  he  understood  the  man's 
intention.  Monte  planned  to  put  him  between  two 
fires.  Howard  jerked  up  his  own  gun. 

The  two  explosions  came  simultaneously,  his  and 
Monte's.  There  was  a  brief  silence.  Plainly  no 
bullet  had  yet  found  its  mark.  True  fired  again. 
His  bullet  whined  by  and  Howard  realized  that  the 
man  was  coming  closer  every  time.  He  turned  a 
little  and,  "  taking  his  time,"  as  Monte  was  doing, 
answered  True's  fire.  There  was  a  little  squeal  of 
pain  from  True,  a  grunt  of  satisfaction  from  How 
ard,  a  second  shot  from  Monte.  Howard  saw  that 
True  had  spun  about  and  fallen.  He  saw,  further, 
that  Monte  had  come  a  step  nearer  and  had  stopped. 
In  a  little  Bettins  would  be  to  reckon  with.  It  was 
still  close  enough  for  a  chance  hit,  too  far  for  abso 
lute  accuracy.  Walking  slowly,  realizing  that  he 
had  but  four  shots  left  and  that  those  gone  he 
would  never  be  given  time  to  reload,  Howard  came 
half  a  dozen  paces  toward  Monte  before  he  stopped. 
He  heard  True's  groaning  curse;  a  spat  of  flame 
from  where  the  man  lay  showed  him  that  he  was 
still  to  be  counted  on.  But  his  shooting  would  be 
apt  to  be  wild  and  he  must  be  forgotten  until  Devine 
was  dealt  with. 

He  was  near  enough  to  make  out  the  gesture  as 
Monte  raised  his  arm.  And  he  was  ready.  Howard 
fired  first;  he  saw  the  flare  and  heard  the  report  of 
Monte's  gun  and  knew  that  he  had  missed.  But 
Monte  had  not  missed.  There  was  a  searing  pain 
across  Howard's  outer  left  arm,  near  the  shoulder. 

IQ6 


Howard  Holds  the  Gulch 

The  pain  came  and  was  gone,  like  the  flash  of  the 
gun;  remained  only  a  mounting  rage  in  Howard's 
brain.  Three  shots  left  and  three  men  still  to  fight. 
A  shot  for  each  man  and  none  to  waste,  or  the  tale 
would  be  told  for  Alan  Howard.  And  there  would 
be  occasion  for  Jim  Courtot's  jeering  laugh  to 
morrow. 

Before  the  smoke  had  cleared  from  Monte's  gun 
Howard  leaped  closer  and  at  this  close  range  fired. 
He  saw  Monte  reel  back.  He  knew  that  Ed  True 
was  still  shooting,  but  he  did  not  care.  Monte  was 
stumbling,  saving  himself  from  falling,  straightening 
again,  lifting  his  gun.  But  before  the  swaying  figure 
could  answer  the  call  of  the  cool  brain  directing  it, 
Howard  sprang  in  upon  him  and  struck  with  his 
clubbed  revolver.  And  Monte  Devine,  his  finger 
crooking  to  the  trigger  as  the  blow  fell,  went  down 
heavily  from  the  impact  of  the  gun  barrel  against 
his  head.  Ed  True  emptied  his  cylinder  and  cursed 
and  began  filling  it  again. 

Howard  stood  a  moment  over  Monte  Devine. 
Then  he  took  up  the  fallen  revolver  in  his  left  hand 
and  turned  to  True. 

"  Chuck  your  gun  to  me,  Ed,"  he  commanded 
sternly,  "  or  I'll  get  you  right  next  time." 

True  damned  him  violently.  Then  he  groaned, 
and  a  moment  later  there  was  the  sound  of  his  re 
volver  hurled  from  him,  clattering  among  the  stones. 
Howard  took  it  up,  shoved  it  into  his  pocket  and 
turned  toward  the  gulch.  While  he  sought  for  a 
sight  of  Bettins  he  hastily  filled  the  empty  chambers 
of  his  own  weapon. 

Now  only  he  realized  how  brief  a  time  had 
elapsed  since  Ed  True's  first  shot.  The  grass  fire 

197 


Desert  Valley 

was  blazing,  but  had  crept  up  the  draw  only  a  few 
feet.  And  Bettins  had  not  yet  had  the  time  to  come 
from  the  other  side,  down  into  the  gulch  and  up  on 
this  side.  He  saw  Bettins;  the  man  was  standing 
still,  staring  toward  his  fallen  companions.  The  fire 
leaped  higher,  its  light  danced  out  in  widening  cir 
cles,  touching  at  last  the  spot  where  Howard  stood, 
where  Ed  True  and  Monte  Devine  lay. 

"Well,  Bettins  ?"  called  Howard  abruptly. 
"What  about  you?  Are  you  coming  over?" 

Bettins  was  silent  a  moment.  The  light  flickered 
on  the  gun  in  his  hand.  Presently  he  raised  his  voice 
to  inquire  anxiously: 

"  Hurt  much,  Monte?    And  you,  True?  " 

No  answer  from  Monte.  True  shrieked  at  him: 
"  Come  over  and  plug  him,  Bettins.  For  God's 
sake  plug  the  damn  cowman." 

Still  Bettins  hesitated. 

"  Monte  dead?  "  he  demanded. 

"How  the  hell  do  I  know?"  complained  True. 
"  Come  plug  him,  Bettins." 

This  time  Bettins'  reply  was  lost  in  a  sudden 
shout  of  voices  rising  from  the  lower  end  of  the 
flat.  The  vague  forms  of  several  horsemen  ap 
peared,  there  came  the  thunderous  beat  of  flying 
hoofs.  Howard's  lips  grew  tight-pressed.  True 
lifted  himself  on  his  elbow. 

"  It's  Jim  coming  back!  "  he  called  triumphantly. 
"This  way,  Jim!" 

But  the  answering  shout,  closer  now,  was  unmis 
takably  the  voice  of  Yellow  Barbee.  And  with  him 
rode  half  a  dozen  men  and,  among  them,  a  girl. 

198 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
A  TOWN  IS  BORN 

THE  fire,  spreading  and  burning  brightly  now, 
shone  on  the  faces  making  a  ring  about  Alan 
Howard  and  the  two  men  lying  on  the  ground.  With 
Yellow  Barbee  had  come  John  Carr,  Longstreet  and 
Helen,  and  two  of  the  Desert  Valley  men,  Chuck 
Evans  and  Dave  Terril.  They  looked  swiftly  from 
Howard  to  the  two  men  whom  he  had  shot,  then 
curiously  at  Howard  again. 

"Jim  Courtot,  Al?"  asked  Carr.  For  Monte 
Devine's  face  was  in  shadow. 

Howard  shook  his  head. 

"  No  such  luck,  John,"  he  said  briefly.  "  Just 
Monte  Devine  and  Ed  True.  Bettins  is  over  yon 
der;  he  didn't  mix  in." 

"  I  hope,"  said  Longstreet  nervously,  "  that  you 
haven't  started  any  trouble  on  my  account." 

"  No  trouble  at  all,"  said  Howard  dryly.  Yellow 
Barbee  laughed  and  went  to  look  at  Devine.  Ed 
True  was  still  cursing  where  he  had  propped  him 
self  up  with  his  back  to  a  rock. 

"  This  is  apt  to  be  bad  business,  Al."  It  was 
John  Carr  speaking  heavily,  his  voice  unusually 
blunt  and  harsh.  "  I  saw  Pony  Lee,  and  he  told  me 
that  Longstreet  here  hasn't  a  leg  to  stand  on.  De- 
vine  filed  on  the  claim;  he  and  his  men  got  here 
ahead  of  us;  neither  Miss  Helen  nor  I  nor  anyone 

199 


Desert  Valley 

but  you  can  go  into  court  and  swear  that  Longstreet 
ever  so  much  as  said  that  he  had  made  a  find.  I 
was  hoping  we  would  get  here  before  you  started 
any  thing. " 

Howard  looked  at  his  friend  in  amazement.  He 
knew  that  the  discovery  was  Longstreet' s  by  right; 
to  his  way  of  thinking  the  simplest  thing  in  the 
world  was  to  hold  and  to  fight  for  the  property  of 
his  friends.  He  would  have  said  that  John  Carr 
would  have  done  the  same  thing,  were  Carr  in  his 
boots.  He  had  taken  another  man's  quarrel  upon 
his  own  shoulders  tonight,  and  asked  no  questions; 
he  had  plunged  into  a  fight  against  odds  and  had 
gotten  away  with  it  and  no  help  asked;  the  fighting 
heat  was  still  in  his  blood,  and  it  seemed  to  him 
that  his  old  friend  John  Carr  was  finding  fault  with 
him. 

They  had  all  dismounted  by  now.  Longstreet  had 
slid  to  the  ground,  let  go  his  horse's  reins  and  was 
fidgeting  up  and  down,  back  and  forth,  in  an  access 
of  nervous  excitement.  Now  he  began  talking 
quickly,  failing  to  understand  in  the  least  what  effect 
his  rushing  words  would  have  on  the  man  who  had 
taken  up  his  fight. 

"  The  thing  is  of  no  consequence,  not  the  kast  in 
the  world.  Come,  let  them  have  it.  It  is  only  a 
gold  mine,  and  haven't  I  told  you  all  the  time  that 
for  me  there  is  no  difficulty  in  locating  gold?  I 
am  sorry  all  of  this  has  happened.  They're  here 
first;  they  have  filed  on  it;  let  them  have  it." 

Howard's  face  no  longer  showed  amazement.  In 
the  flickering  light  his  mouth  was  hard  and  bitter, 
set  in  the  implacable  lines  of  st&rn  resentment.  Be 

200 


A  Town  Is  Born 

tween  Carr  and  Longstreet  they  made  it  seem  that 
he  had  merely  made  a  fool  of  himself.  Well,  maybe 
he  had.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  turned 
away. 

"  I  know  you  did  it  for  me,"  Longstreet  began, 
having  a  glimpse  of  the  bitterness  in  Alan's  heart. 
"  And  you  mustn't  think — " 

Howard  wheeled  on  him. 

"  I  didn't  do  it  for  you,"  he  snapped  irritably. 
"  I  tried  the  only  way  I  knew  to  help  save  the  mine 
for  Helen.  We'd  do  it  yet  if  you  weren't  a  pack 
of  damned  rabbits." 

He  pushed  by  and  laid  his  hand  on  the  mane  of 
the  horse  Dave  Terril  rode. 

"  Give  me  your  horse,  Dave,"  he  said  quietly. 
"  I'm  on  my  way  home.  You'll  find  Barbee's  down 
under  the  cliff." 

Dave  Terril  was  quick  to  obey.  But  before  his 
spurred  boot  heel  had  struck  the  turf  Helen  had 
come  running  through  the  men  about  Howard,  her 
two  hands  out,  her  voice  thrilling  and  vibrant  as 
she  cried: 

4  There  is  only  one  man  among  you,  one  real  man, 
and  that  is  Alan  Howard!  He  was  not  wrong;  he 
was  right!  And  no  matter  what  happens  to  the 
gold,  I  had  rather  have  a  man  like  Alan  Howard  do 
a  thing  like  that  for  me  than  have  all  of  the  gold  in 
the  mountains !  " 

Her  excitement,  too,  ran  high,  her  words  came 
tripping  over  one  another,  heedless  and  extravagant. 
But  Howard  suddenly  glowed,  and  when  she  put 
her  hands  out  to  him  he  took  them  both  and  squeezed 
them  hard. 

201 


Desert  Valley 

u  Why,  God  bless  you,  you're  a  brick!  "  he  cried 
warmly.  "  And,  in  spite  of  the  rest  of  'em,  I'm 
glad  I  did  make  a  fool  of  myself!  " 

From  his  wounded  arm  a  trickle  of  blood  had  run 
down  to  his  hand.  Helen  cried  out  as  she  saw  the 
smear  across  the  sleeve  of  his  shirt. 

"He's  hurt!"  she  exclaimed. 

He  laughed  at  her. 

"  It  would  be  worth  it  if  I  were,1'  he  told  her 
gently.  "  But  I'm  not."  He  slipped  his  foot  into 
the  stirrup.  "  Dave,"  he  said  over  his  shoulder, 
"  you  and  Chuck  had  better  look  at  Monte.  I  don't 
know  how  bad  his  hurt  is.  Do  whatever  you  can 
for  him.  If  I'm  wanted,  I'm  at  the  ranch." 

But  Helen,  carried  out  of  herself  by  the  excite 
ment  of  the  moment  and  unconscious  that  she  was 
clinging  to  him,  pleaded  with  him  not  to  go  yet. 

"  Wait  until  we  decide  what  we  are  going  to  do," 
she  told  him  earnestly.  "Won't  you,  please?" 

"  You  bet  I  will !  "  he  answered,  his  voice  ringing 
with  his  eagerness  to  do  anything  she  might  ask  of 
him.  "If  you  want  me  to  stay,  here  I  stick." 

He  dropped  the  reins  and  with  her  at  his  side 
turned  back  to  the  others.  Already  two  men  were 
kneeling  beside  Monte  Devine.  Chuck  Evans,  who 
had  got  there  first,  looked  up  and  announced: 

"  He's  come  to,  Al.  He  looks  sick,  but  he  ain't 
hurt  much,  I'd  say  for  a  guess.  Not  for  a  tough 
gent  like  him.  How  about  it,  Monte?  " 

Monte  growled  something  indistinct,  but  when  at 
the  end  of  it  he  demanded  a  drink  of  whiskey  his 
voice  was  both  clear  and  steady.  Chuck  laughed. 
Thereafter  those  who  knew  most  of  such  matters 

202 


A  Town  Is  Born 

looked  over  both  Monte's  and  Ed  True's  injuries 
and  gave  what  first  aid  they  could.  It  was  Chuck's 
lively  opinion  that  both  gents  were  due  for  a  little 
quiet  spell  at  a  hospital,  but  that  they'd  be  getting 
in  trouble  again  inside  a  month  or  so. 

"  You  can't  kill  them  kind/'  he  concluded  lightly. 
"  Not  so  easy." 

They  called  to  Bettins,  but  he  held  back  upon  the 
far  side  of  the  gulch  and  finally  withdrew  and  dis 
appeared.  Then  Longstreet,  who  had  been  restless 
but  quiet-tongued  for  ten  minutes,  exclaimed  quickly: 

"  We  must  get  these  two  men  over  to  our  camp 
right  away  where  we  can  have  better  light  and  put 
them  into  bed  until  a  physician  can  be  summoned. 
Think  of  the  horrible  situation  which  would  arise  if 
they  died  I  "  He  shuddered.  Then  he  turned  to 
Howard  and  extended  his  hand.  His  voice  shook 
slightly  as  he  said  hurriedly:  "  Old  chap,  don't  think 
that  I  don't  appreciate  what  you  have  attempted  for 
us;  it  was  quite  the  most  amazingly  splendid  thing 
I  ever  heard  of!  But  now,  with  matters  as  they 
stand,  there  is  nothing  for  us  to  do  but  withdraw. 
Let  them  have  the  mine;  it  is  blood-stained  and  ill- 
starred.  I  wouldn't  have  a  thing  to  do  with  it  if 
they  returned  it  to  me." 

"But,  papa,"  cried  Helen  hotly,  "  just  think! 
They  have  stolen  it  from  us,  they  have  tried  to 
murder — " 

"  My  dear,"  cut  in  Longstreet  sternly,  "  I  trust 
that  you  will  say  nothing  further  about  it.  I  have 
made  up  my  mind;  I  am  a  man  of  the  world  and 
an  older  and  cooler  mind  than  you.  Leave  this 


to  me." 


203 


Desert  Valley 

Howard  heard  her  deep  breath,  slowly  drawn, 
slowly  expelled  and  saw  her  face  looking  white  and 
tense;  he  knew  that  her  teeth  were  set,  that  her 
heart  was  filled  with  rebellion.  But  she  made  no 
answer,  knowing  the  futility  of  mere  words  to  move 
her  father  in  his  present  mood.  Instead,  she  turned 
away  from  him  and  looked  out  across  the  gulch 
along  both  banks  of  which  the  fires  were  now  raging. 
Nor  did  she  turn  again  while  Monte  and  True  were 
placed  in  the  saddles  which  were  to  carry  them  to 
the  camp. 

"  A  moment,  Mr.  Longstreet,"  said  Howard,  as 
they  were  starting.  "  Am  I  to  understand  that  you 
absolutely  refuse  to  make  a  fight  for  your  own 
rights?" 

"  In  this  particular  instance,  absolutely! "  said 
Longstreet  emphatically. 

"  Then,"  pursued  Howard,  "  I  have  a  suggestion 
to  make.  We  are  all  friends  here:  Suppose  that 
each  one  of  us  stakes  out  a  claim  just  adjoining  the 
ones  you  have  lost.  Certainly  they  might  have  some 
value." 

But  Longstreet  shook  his  head  impatiently. 

"  I  am  through  with  the  whole  mess,"  he  de 
clared,  waving  his  hands.  "  I  won't  have  a  thing 
to  do  with  it  and  I  won't  allow  Helen  to  touch  it. 
Further,  the  other  claims  would  have  no  value  in  my 
eyes;  the  spot  that  has  been  stolen  from  me  is  the 
only  spot  in  the  gulch  that  I  would  give  a  dollar 
for.  Come  on,  Helen." 

"  We'll  follow  you,"  said  Helen  quietly. 

The  others  moved  away.  John  Carr,  who  had 
not  spoken  since  his  first  words,  stood  hesitantly, 

204 


A  Town  Is  Born 

looking  at  the  two  figures  silhouetted  against  the 
fire.  Then  he  too  moved  away,  going  with  the 
others  and  in  silence. 

"Tell  me  about  it,"  said  Helen.  She  dropped 
down  and  sat  with  her  chin  in  her  hands,  her  eyes 
moody  upon  the  rushing  flames.  "  Just  what  hap 
pened?" 

He  sat  by  her  and  told  her.  His  heart  was  still 
filled  with  his  bitterness  and  his  voice  told  the  fact. 
Presently  she  withdrew  her  gaze  from  the  gulch 
and  turned  it  upon  him;  she  had  never  seen  him  so 
relentlessly  stern.  Almost  he  frightened  her.  Then 
she  noticed  again  the  stain  upon  'his  shoulder  and 
this  time  insisted  upon  helping  him  make  a  bandage. 
With  his  knife  she  slit  the  shirt  sleeve;  together 
they  got  a  handkerchief  bound  about  the  wound.  It 
was  not  deep  nor  was  it  in  any  way  dangerous,  but 
Helen  winced  and  paled  before  the  job  was  done. 
Then  their  eyes  met  and  clung  together  and  for  a 
little  while  they  were  silent  and  gradually  the  color 
came  back  into  the  giiTs  cheeks.  N 

"  Are  you  tired?"  he  asked  presently.  "Or 
hungry?  If  not,  and  you  care  to  sit  here  with  me 
for  an  hour  or  two,  maybe  a  little  more,  1  can 
promise  to  show  you  a  sight  you  will  never  forget." 

"  What  is  it?  "  she  asked  curiously,  wondering  if 
he  meant  a  moonrise  over  the  far  desert  mountains. 

"  It  is  the  birth  of  a  mining-camp.  For  there  will 
be  one  here  before  morning." 

"Surely  not  so  soon?    Who  will  know?" 

"  Who?  "  he  grunted  disgustedly.  "  Everybody! 
Down  in  San  Ramon  Pony  Lee  knows ;  at  the  court 
house  it  is  known.  Men  give  tips  to  their  friends. 


Desert  Valley 

Courtot's  crowd  knows.  Out  here  my  men  know; 
Carr  and  Barbee  know.  Already  there  are  a  hun 
dred  men,  maybe  several  times  a  hundred,  who 
know.  And  you  may  be  sure  that  already  they  are 
coming  like  a  train  of  ants.  Once  gold  has  been 
uncovered  the  secret  is  out.  Pony  Lee  swears  the 
desert  winds  carry  the  news." 

Howard  was  entirely  correct  in  his  surmise,  sav 
ing  in  the  time  he  judged  they  must  wait.  Less  than 
an  hour  had  passed  and  the  grass  fire  was  still 
spreading  with  a  fierce  crackling  sound  and  myriad 
sparks,  when  the  vanguard  of  the  gold  seekers 
came.  Helen  and  Howard  heard  horses5  hoofs,  rat 
tling  stones,  impatient  voices,  and  withdrew  a  hun 
dred  yards  from  the  gulch  and  into  the  shadows  of 
a  ring  of  boulders. 

With  the  first  came  Bettins.  His  voice  was  the 
loudest,  coming  now  and  then  distinctly;  he  em 
ployed  the  name  of  Howard  and  cursed  it;  he  said 
something  about  his  "  pals  "  Devine  and  True.  A 
man  to  whom  he  was  talking  laughed  at  him.  There 
after  half  a  dozen  forms  swarmed  down  into  the 
gulch;  the  fire  on  either  side  of  them  was  dying 
out  along  the  gulch's  edge ;  they  cursed  its  heat  when 
it  offended  them,  took  advantage  of  its  light  at  all 
times,  and  more  like  ants  than  ever  appeared  to  be 
running  back  and  forth  foolishly  and  aimlessly.  But, 
apparently,  Bettins  got  his  stakes  and  his  friends' 
back  and  the  men  with  whom  he  had  returned 
hastily  staked  out  their  own  claims,  all  feverishly  and 
by  crude  guesswork.  There  was  perhaps  not  a  man 
among  them  who  knew  the  first  thing  about  mining. 
Helen  watched  them  in  sheer  fascination.  Down 

206 


A  Town  Is  Born 

there  half  in  light,  half  in  shadow,  darting  this  way 
and  that,  they  were  like  little  gnomes  playing  some 
wild  game  of  their  own. 

"  They  act  like  madmen, "  she  whispered.  "  They 
run  about  as  if  everything  had  to  be  done  in  a 
minute." 

"  Between  them  the  crowd  down  there  don't  own, 
Fd  say,  fifty  dollars.  Each  one  is  figuring  that  he 
has  his  chance  to  be  a  millionaire  tomorrow.  And 
they  know  that  more  men  are  coming.  That's  the 
way  men  think  when  they're  in  the  gold  rush.  Look, 
there  come  some  more !  " 

This  time  there  were  three  men.  They  broke  into 
a  run  when  they  heard  voices;  perhaps  they  had 
hoped  to  be  first.  Down  into  the  bed  of  the  gulch 
they  plunged;  one  of  them  slipped  and  rolled  and 
cursed;  men  laughed,  and  with  the  laughter  dying 
in  their  throats  broke  off  to  yell  a  warning  to  some 
one  to  keep  his  feet  off  a  claim  already  staked  out. 
Within  an  hour  after  the  return  of  Bettins  there 
were  a  score  of  men  on  the  spot;  again  and  again 
rose  sharp  words  as  every  man,  alert  to  protect  his 
own  interests,  was  ready  for  a  quarrel.  They 
dragged  stones  to  mark  their  boundaries;  they  cut 
and  hammered  stakes,  they  left  their  chosen  sites 
now  and  then  and  altered  their  first  judgments  and 
restaked  somewhere  else.  They  swarmed  up  the 
banks  of  the  gulch  on  both  sides,  they  hastened  back 
and  forth,  they  staked  everywhere.  As  the  time 
passed  more  and  more  came,  plunging  into  the  orgy 
of  gold  until  at  last  the  night  was  never  quiet.  Harsh 
words  passed  and  once  blows  were  struck  and  a  man 
went  down  and  lay  still.  Another  time  there  was 

207 


Desert  Valley 

the  report  of  a  gun  and  a  boom  of  many  voices  com 
manding  order  and  that  quarrels  be  taken  to  a  safe 
distance  and  out  of  the  way  of  busy  men. 

"It's  dreadful,"  whispered  Helen.  "  They're 
like  wild  animals." 

"It's  just  the  gold  fever,"  he  returned.  "  Poor 
devils !  they  are  drunk  with  their  visions." 

But  Helen  wondered  if  they  were  capable  of  vi 
sions.  Down  in  the  shadow-filled  sink  they  were  to 
her  imagination  like  so  many  swine  plunging  into  a 
monster  trough.  When  Alan  suggested,  "  We've 
seen,  and  now  maybe  we  had  better  be  going,"  she 
rose  without  a  word  or  backward  glance  and  went 
with  him.  But  Howard,  looking  over  his  shoulder, 
saw  still  other  men  coming.  He  himself  began  to 
wonder  whence  they  had  come;  by  now,  it  seemed 
to  him,  both  Big  Run  and  San  Ramon  must  have 
emptied  themselves  like  bags  of  wheat  slashed  with 
a  knife. 

They  walked  swiftly  until  the  din  of  the  gold- 
seekers  was  lost  to  their  ears.  Then  slowly  they 
strolled  on,  silence  enwrapping  them,  Helen's  eyes 
wandering  away  to  the  glory  of  the  stars,  Howard's 
contented  with  the  girl's  face.  After  a  while  Helen, 
feeling  the  intentness  of  his  look,  turned  toward  him 
with  a  strange  little  smile  which  came  and  went 
fleetingly.  She  stopped  a  moment,  still  looking  at 
him. 

'*  Your  country  has  done  something  to  me,"  she 
said  thoughtfully.  "  Even  though  I  have  been  out 
here  only  a  few  weeks.  For  one  thing,  when  I  first 
came  I  thought  that  I  knew  all  about  men  and  that 
they  Were  pretty  much  all  alike.  I  am  finding  out 

308 


A  Town  Is  Born 

that  they  are  not  at  all  alike  and  that  I  don't  under 
stand  them." 

"  No,  they  are  not  all  alike,  and  some  men  are 
hard  to  make  out,  I  suppose,"  he  said  when  she 
paused. 

"  Men  are  more  violent  than  I  thought  men  were 
nowadays,"  she  added.  "  They  are  stronger;  they 
are  fiercer.  I  used  to  think  that  a  girl  was  a 
wretched  little  coward  to  be  afraid  of  any  man. 
Now  I  would  be  afraid  of  many  of  them  I  have 
seen  in  this  land  that  you  like  to  call  your  country." 

He  understood  that  in  her  brain  had  formed  a 
vision  of  his  fight  with  Devine  and  Ed  True  and 
that,  blurring  that  image,  she  was  still  seeing  the 
picture  of  the  dark  forms  rushing  down  into  the 
gulch.  She  began  to  move  on  again,  and  he  went 
at  her  side  making  no  reply  and  communing  with  his 
own  thoughts.  She  did  not  stop  again  until  they 
came  close  to  the  canvas-walled  cabin  and  saw  the 
light  shining  wanly  through  and  the  shadows  of  the 
men  inside.  Then  she  lifted  her  face  so  that  it 
was  clear  to  him  in  the  starlight  and  said  to  him 
slowly : 

"  I  am  going  in  and  see  if  I  can  help  with  the 
wounded  men  now.  I  should  have  gone  at  first,  I 
suppose.  Maybe  there  is  something  I  can  do.  You 
wouldn't  want  them  to  die,  would  you?  " 

"  No,"  he  returned.  "  I  would  not  want  them 
to  die." 

In  the  silence  which  followed  he  could  see  that 
she  was  seeking  to  read  his  face  and  that  she  was 
very,  very  thoughtful. 

"Tell  me  something,"  she  said  abruptly.  "  If 
209 


Desert  Valley 

one  of  them  were  Jim  Courtot — would  you  want 
him  to  die  ?  " 

At  the  mention  of  Courtot's  name  she  made  out 
a  quick  hardening  of  his  mouth;  she  even  saw,  or 
fancied,  an  angry  gathering  of  his  brows.  Tonight's 
work  was  largely  the  work  of  Jim  Courtot,  and  be 
cause  of  it  Dry  Gulch,  which  might  have  poured 
great  heaps  of  gold  at  Helen's  feet,  was  being 
wrangled  over  by  a  hundred  men.  He  thought  of. 
that  and  he  thought  of  other  things,  of  how  Courtot 
had  fired  on  him  from  the  dark  long  ago,  of  how 
Courtot  was  hunting  him  after  Courtot's  own  tena 
cious  fashion. 

"  Why  do  you  ask  that?  "  he  demanded  sharply. 

She  did  not  reply.  Instead  she  turned  from  him 
and  looked  at  the  stars.  And  then  she  withdrew  her 
eyes  and  turned  them  toward  the  light  gleaming 
palely  through  the  walls  of  canvas.  But  at  last  she 
lifted  her  face  again  to  Howard. 

"  I'll  go  in  now.  And  maybe  I  am  tired  after 
all.  It  has  been  a  day,  hasn't  it?  And  please  know 
that  I  felt  that  you  did  the  right  thing  tonight  and 
that  I  don't  know  another  man  who  would  have 
been  man  enough  to  do  it.  Good-night." 

"  Good-night,"  he  said,  and  watched  her  as  she 
went  into  the  house. 


2IO 


CHAPTER  XIX 
SANCHIA  PERSISTENT 

THUS,  upon  the  barren  flanks  of  Dry  Gulch,  a 
town  was  born.  Mothered  by  the  stubborn 
desert  that  appears  sterile  and  is  not,  it  was  a  sprawl 
ing,  ungainly,  ill-begotten  thing.  In  the  night  it 
came;  in  the  dawn  it  grew;  during  the  first  day  it 
assumed  lustiness  and  an  insolence  that  was  its  birth 
right.  And,  like  any  welcome  child,  there  was  a 
name  awaiting  it.  Men  laughed  as  the  uncere 
monious  christening  was  performed.  A  half-drunken 
vagabond  from  no  one  knew  where  had  staked  out 
his  claim  and  drained  his  bottle.  "  Here's  lookin' 
at  Sanchia's  Town !  "  he  cried  out,  and  smashed  his 
bottle  against  a  rock. 

It  appeared  that  everyone  had  heard  the  tale  of 
Longstreet's  discovery  and  of  Sanchia  Murray's 
maneuver.  They  made  high  fun  of  Longstreet  and 
declared  that  Sanchia  was  a  cool  one.  The  mere  fact 
that  she  was  a  woman  enlisted  their  sympathies  in 
an  affair  wherein  they  had  no  interest.  They  were 
doomed  to  second  choice  and  deemed  it  as  well  for 
Sanchia  to  have  had  first  as  any  one.  When  a 
narrow-headed  individual  remarked  that  he  had 
heard  that  the  widow  was  getting  nothing  out  of  it, 
but  that  Courtot  and  his  crowd  had  cheated  her,  they 
hooted  and  jeered  at  him  until  he  withdrew  wonder 
ing  at  their  insane  attitude.  It  was  generally  taken 

211 


Desert  Valley 

tor  granted  that  Sanchia  Murray  knew  what  she 
was  about.  If  she  chose  to  hunt  in  couple  with  Jim 
Courtot,  that  was  her  business. 

A  town  is  something  more  than  a  group  of  men 
encamped.  It  connotes  many  social  facilities;  first 
among  them  comes  the  store  and,  in  certain  parts 
of  the  world,  the  saloon.  Sanchia's  Town  was,  upon 
the  first  day,  a  town  in  these  essentials.  Shortly 
after  dawn  a  string  of  three  six-horse  teams  crawled 
across  the  lowlands  and,  by  a  circuitous  way,  to  the 
camp.  One  wagon  was  heaped  with  bits  of  second 
hand  lumber  and  a  jumbled  assortment  of  old  tents 
and  strips  of  canvas.  In  it,  also,  were  hammers, 
saws  and  nails.  The  two  other  wagons  were  filled 
with  boxes  and  bags — and  kegs.  There  were  two 
men  to  each  team.  Arrived  they  gave  immediate 
evidence  that  their  employer  had  chosen  well.  One 
of  them,  a  crooked-eyed  carpenter  named  Emberlee, 
directed,  hammer  in  hand.  Before  noon  he  had 
caused  to  grow  up  an  architectural  monstrosity, 
hideous  but  sturdy.  It  was  without  floor,  but  it  had 
walls;  wide  gaps  were  doors  and  windows,  but 
there  was  a  canvas  roof. 

While  his  five  companions  brought  their  parcels 
into  the  place,  Emberlee  climbed  aloft  and  nailed  up 
a  big  board  upon  which  his  own  hand,  as  the  wagon 
had  jostled  along,  had  painted  a  sign.  It  spelled: 
JIM  COURTOT'S  HOUSE.  Then  he  descended 
and  began  a  hurried  grouping  of  certain  articles 
upon  shelves  and  in  corners.  By  the  time  the 
camp  was  ready  for  a  noon  meal  the  word  had 
flown  about  that  at  Jim  Courtot's  House  one  could 
get  food,  water  and  a  widely-known  substitute 

212 


Sanchia  Persistent 

for  whiskey.  Meantime  Tony  Moraga  had  come; 
he  stood  behind  a  bar  hastily  made  of  two 
planks  set  on  packing  cases  and  sold  a  tin  cup  of 
water  for  twenty-five  cents,  a  glass  of  liquor  for 
fifty.  There  were  calls  for  both.  Emberlee,  plainly 
a  jack-of-all-trades,  began  displaying  his  wares.  He 
offered  dried  meats,  tinned  goods,  crackers,  cheese 
and  other  comestibles  at  several  times  desert  prices. 
And  he,  too,  chinked  many  a  silver  dollar  and  minted 
gold  piece  into  his  cash  box  because  when  men  rush 
to  gold  diggings  they  are  likely  to  go  empty-handed. 
Shortly  after  noon  the  three  wagons  returned  to  Big 
Run  for  more  supplies. 

Obviously,  though  already  Jim  Courtot  had  de 
parted  from  Dry  Gulch  when  Alan  Howard  came 
upon  his  agents,  he  was  no  less  active  than  they  and 
with  rich  gains  in  sight.  It  is  to  be  doubted  if  the 
man  slept  at  all  during  the  first  three  days  and 
nights.  He  had  made  his  own  list  of  foods  and 
tobaccos  and  alcohols;  he  had  selected  men  for  his 
work.  Down  in  San  Juan  men  said :  "  Jim  Courtot 
is  playing  his  luck  again."  For  though  information 
was  garbled  long  before  it  reached  the  mission  town, 
yet  always  it  was  understood  that  Jim  Courtot  was 
playing  to  win  heavily,  he  and  Sanchia  Murray. 

Those  hours  which,  in  Sanchia's  Town,  had  been 
given  over  to  frenzy  and  the  fury  of  feverish  en 
deavor,  had  dragged  by  wearily  and  anxiously  for 
the  inmates  of  Longstreet's  half-mile-distant  cabin. 
For  both  Monte  Devine  and  Ed  True  the  night  was 
one  of  bitter  rage  and  pain.  Longstreet  was  gentle 
with  them,  bringing  them  water,  asking  them  often 
of  their  wants;  Helen  ministered  to  them  silently, 

213 


Desert  Valley 

a  strange  new  look  in  her  eyes.  Often  she  went  to 
the  door  and  stood  looking  off  into  the  moonlit 
night,  across  the  rolling  hills  and  down  into  the  wide 
sweep  of  Desert  Valley.  Carr  remained  with  them 
all  night.  It  was  as  well  to  be  on  hand,  he  sug 
gested,  if  anything  happened.  He  seemed  scarcely 
conscious  of  the  presence  of  the  two  wounded  men; 
tilted  back  in  his  chair,  smoking  one  cigar  after 
another,  he  scarcely  for  an  instant  lost  sight  of 
Helen. 

In  the  morning  early  there  was  the  sound  of  hoofs 
and  then  men's  voices.  It  was  Carr  who  went  to 
the  door. 

"  It  is  Bettins  and  a  couple  of  other  men,"  he 
said  over  his  shoulder.  "  Come  for  Devine  and 
True,  I  guess."  And  still  without  turning,  he  de 
manded,  "Ready  to  go,  Monte?" 

"  Damn  right,"  said  Monte. 

Between  Carr  and  Longstreet,  Monte  shambled 
to  the  door.  Here  he  was  turned  over  to  his  friends, 
who  got  him  into  his  saddle.  Then,  assisted  as 
Monte  had  been,  and  cursing  at  every  step,  Ed  True 
passed  through  the  door.  The  men_  outside  accepted 
the  two  wounded  men  with  only  a  few  low  words; 
in  another  moment  the  five  horses  were  carrying 
their  riders  slowly  toward  Sanchia's  Town.  Carr 
returning  saw  the  whisk  of  Helen's  skirt  as  she  dis 
appeared  within  the  little  room  partitioned  off  at  the 
rear  and  knew  that  she  had  gone  to  fling  herself 
down  upon  her  bed.  He  looked  after  her  as  though 
he  still  half  hoped  she  were  coming  back  if  only  to 
say  a  belated  "  good-night."  Then  he  and  Long- 
street  made  coffee  and  drank  it  perfunctorily.  After 

214 


Sanchia  Persistent 

breakfast  Carr  left,  saying  that  he  would  ride  over 
to  have  a  look  at  the  new  camp,  and  would  drop  in 
again  some  time  during  the  afternoon. 

"  If  I  am  not  making  a  nuisance  of  myself,"  he 
said  as  Longstreet  followed  him  to  the  door,  "  I 
should  like  to  see  what  I  can  of  you  during  the 
next  few  days.  And  of  Miss  Helen,"  he  added 
with  utter  frankness  and  clear  meaning.  "  I  have 
business  which  will  call  me  back  East  before 
long." 

"  Come  as  often  as  you  can,  my  dear  fellow," 
invited  Longstreet.  But  his  eyes  had  wandered 
toward  the  mining  site  which  should  have  been  his, 
and  his  mind  seemed  to  be  less  than  half  busied  with 
Carr's  words.  Carr,  turning  in  the  saddle,  narrowed 
his  eyes  upon  the  university  man's  face  and,  thinking 
that  he  had  caught  his  thought,  said  bluntly: 

"  It's  an  infernal  shame.  It's  all  yours  by  right, 
and—" 

"  Oh,"  cried  Longstreet  grandly,  "  I'm  not  worry 
ing  about  a  little  diggings  like  that !  Let  them  have 
it!  Next  time  I'll  show  them  a  real  mine." 

"Well,  I  wish  you  luck,"  rejoined  Carr.  But 
there  was  no  great  conviction  in  his  tone,  since  in 
his  mind  there  was  little  expectation  that  lightning 
was  going  to  strike  twice  in  the  same  place.  How 
ever,  the  caution  came  to  his  lips  involuntarily:  "  If 
there  is  a  next  time,  I'd  be  mighty  careful  whom 
I  told  about  it.  It  will  pay  you  to  look  out  for 
that  Murray  woman." 

Longstreet's  face  was  puzzled  and  troubled. 

"  It  does  begin  to  look  as  though  she  gave  me 
the — the  double  cross,  doesn't  it?  "  he  said  as  though 

215 


Desert  Valley 

he  were  afraid  he  must  believe  the  worst  of  Sanchia 
Murray  despite  his  wish  in  the  matter. 

"  It  certainly  does,"  grunted  Carr.  "  She's  abso 
lutely  no  good.  Everybody  knows  it.  Fight  shy  of 
her.  Well,  so  long." 

"  So  long,"  repeated  Longstreet  absently. 

Carr  rode  away.  Longstreet's  eyes,  following  the 
galloping  horse,  were  still  puzzled.  "  I'm  learning 
a  thing  or  two,"  he  told  himself  soberly  as  he  went 
back  into  the  cabin.  Many  times  he  nodded  his  head 
thoughtfully.  "  IVe  lived  too  long  in  another  sort 
of  world;  now  I  am  coming  to  grips  with  real  life, 
real  men  and  women.  There's  a  new  set  of  rules 
to  grasp.  Well,"  and  he  straightened  his  thin  body 
and  a  flickering  smile  played  over  his  lips,  "  I  can 
learn.  As  Barbee  says  of  stud  poker:  *  You've  got 
to  set  tight  and  keep  your  trap  shut  and  your  eye 
peeled.'" 

Helen  slept  soundly  all  morning.  Longstreet 
dozed,  studied  the  maps  he  had  made  during  the  last 
week  and  pottered.  At  noon  they  lunched  together, 
neither  having  a  great  deal  to  say.  Helen  regarded 
her  father  more  than  ever  as  a  baby  who  ought  to 
be  scolded  and  lessoned;  still,  like  any  doting 
mother,  she  found  excuses  for  him  and  told  herself 
that  he  had  been  amply  punished  for  his  indiscre 
tion.  She,  too,  opined  that  he  had  learned  a  lesson. 
Consequently  she  coddled  him  to  such  an  extent  that 
Longstreet  remarked  the  fact  and  began  to  wonder 
just  what  Helen  wanted  now;  no  doubt  she  was 
going  to  ask  something  of  him  and  was  preparing 
the  way  after  the  approved  and  time-honored 
custom. 

216 


Sanchia  Persistent 

But  the  day  wore  on  with  never  a  favor  asked. 
In  the  drowsy  afternoon  Helen  coaxed  her  father 
into  her  room  and  dropped  the  shades  and  ordered 
him  to  sleep,  telling  him  that  he  looked  like  a  ghost 
of  his  former  rugged  beauty.  Then  she  sank  down 
listlessly  upon  the  doorstep,  brooding,  her  eyes  wan 
dering  through  the  green  fields  of  Desert  Valley. 
Her  musings  were  disturbed  by  the  clatter  of  shod 
hoofs  across  the  rugged  plateau;  she  looked  up 
quickly,  her  eyes  brightening.  Then  she  saw  that 
it  was  John  Carr  returning,  and  into  her  look  there 
came  an  expression  much  resembling  that  which  had 
been  so  much  today  in  her  father's,  one  of  uncer 
tainty. 

Carr  staked  out  his  horse  before  he  came  to 
her.  Then  he  sat  down  on  a  box  near  the  doorstep 
and  studied  her  gravely  before  he  spoke.  Helen 
smiled. 

"  You  are  thinking  unpleasant  things  about  some 
one,"  she  stated  quickly.  "  Has  the  world  turned 
into  a  terribly  serious  place  all  of  a  sudden?" 

There  was  little  levity  in  Carr's  make-up  at  any 
time;  just  now  his  speech  was  as  sober  as  his  look. 

"  I  am  thinking  about  you  and  your  father,  to 
begin  with,"  he  replied  gravely.  "  I  have  been  over 
yonder  all  day."  He  swept  out  an  impatient  arm 
toward  Dry  Gulch.  "  They  call  it  Sanchia's  Town. 
And  it  is  a  town  already.  1  saw  Nate  Kemble  there ; 
he's  the  big  man  of  the  Quigley  Mines,  and  you  see 
how  long  it  has  taken  him  to  get  on  the  spot.  Your 
father  evidently  made  no  mistake  in  his  location. 
There's  gold  there,  all  right !  " 

Helen  waited  expectantly  for  him  to  go  on.  For 
217 


Desert  Valley 

certainly  the  fact  that  her  father  had  been  able  to 
find  gold  was  no  cause  for  Carr's  frowning  eyes. 

"  My  blood  has  been  boiling  all  day,"  Carr 
blurted  out  angrily.  "  Longstreet  should  be  a  rich 
man  today  and  he  has  gained  nothing.  I  saw  Nate 
Kemble  pay  one  man  ten  thousand  dollars  for  his 
claim;  Kemble  wouldn't  pay  that  if  the  thing  were 
not  worth  a  great  deal  more.  Kemble  doesn't  make 
many  mistakes.  Your  father  stumbled  on  to  the 
place  and  then  he  couldn't  hold  it.  When  do  you 
think  he  will  make  another  discovery?  And,  if  his 
lucky  star  should  lead  him  aright  again,  is  he  the 
man  to  cash  in  on  his  luck?  Don't  you  see,  Helen, 
that  James  Edward  Longstreet  in  this  man's  land 
is  a  fish  out  of  water?  " 

"  I  understand  what  you  mean,"  Helen  nodded 
slowly.  Again  her  look  wandered  through  the  fields 
stretching  out  far  below.  "  And  you  are  right.  I 
didn't  want  papa  to  come  in  the  first  place ;  now,  as 
you  say,  he  is  only  wasting  time."  She  smiled  a 
little  tenderly.  "  He  is  just  a  dear  old  babe  in  the 
woods,"  she  concluded  softly. 

Carr's  approval  of  her  mounted  swiftly  to  admira 
tion.  They  lowered  their  voices  and  spoke  at  length 
of  the  professor  and  of  what  should  be  done  for 
him.  They  agreed  perfectly  that,  while  he  was  an 
unusually  fine  technical  man  and  an  able  instructor 
in  matters  of  geological  theorizing,  he  was  not  the 
man  to  wander  with  a  prospector's  pick  across  these 
rugged  lands. 

"  Even  grant  the  extremely  unlikely,"  concluded 
Carr  hastily  as  they  heard  the  subject  of  their  dis 
cussion  moving  about  in  the  cabin,  "  and  admit  that 

218 


Sanchia  Persistent 

he  may  chance  upon  a  second  strike.  What  then? 
Why,  Sanchia  and  Devine  and  Courtot  and  a  crowd 
of  hangers-on  have  their  eyes  on  him.  They'd  oust 
him  again  with  not  the  shadow  of  a  doubt  or  a 
second's  hesitation." 

Helen  nodded  and  they  went  in  together. 

Carr  stayed  on  to  supper.  Longstreet  looked 
rested  from  his  nap,  bright  and  eager  and  as  usual 
interested  in  everything  in  the  world.  Carr  had 
bought  a  new  hat  yesterday;  Longstreet  tried  it  on 
and  approved  of  it  extravagantly.  He  asked  what 
it  cost  and  jingled  his  few  coins,  admitting  ruefully 
that  he'd  have  to  wait  until  he  uncovered  his  "  real 
mine."  Just  the  same,  he  proclaimed  brightly, 
clothes  did  help  make  the  man,  and  inside  a  year 
when  he  was  decked  out  entirely  to  his  own  liking 
and  a  tenderfoot  saw  him,  there  would  be  no  sus 
pecting  that  Longstreet  was  not  a  Westerner  born 
and  bred.  He  put  the  hat  away  and  sat  down  with 
them  at  the  table.  As  he  mentioned  in  such  a  matter- 
of-fact  way  his  intention  of  tarrying  a  year,  Carr 
and  Helen  glanced  at  each  other  significantly. 
And  Carr  after  his  direct  fashion  opened  his  cam 
paign. 

44  There  are  other  things  than  gold  mines,  and  you 
were  not  made  for  this  country,"  he  said.  '  What 
would  you  say  to  going  back  East  if  I  showed  jfou 
the  chance  there  to  clean  up  more  money  than  you'll 
ever  see  out  here  ?  I  have  been  thinking  about  you, 
and  I  know  the  place  where  you'll  fit  in." 

This  was  all  news  to  Helen,  and  her  look  showed 
her  eager  interest.  Longstreet  smiled  and  shook 
his  head. 

219 


Desert  Valley 

"  That's  kind  of  you,"  he  said  warmly.  "  But  I 
like  it  out  here." 

"  But,  papa,"  cried  Helen,  "  surely  you  should 
hear  Mr.  Carr's  proposition !  It  is  not  merely  kind 
of  him;  it  is  wonderful  if  he  can  help  us  that  way, 
and  it  is  wise." 

"  No,"  said  Longstreet.  "  Carr  won't  think  me 
ungrateful.  I  told  them  in  the  East  that  there  was 
nothing  simpler  than  the  fact  that  a  man  like  me, 
knowing  what  I  know,  can  discover  gold  in  vast  quan 
tities.  First,  it  is  universally  conceded  that  the 
auriferous  deposits  remaining  untouched  are  vastly 
in  excess  of  those  already  found  and  worked.  Sec 
ond,  all  of  my  life  I  have  made  a  profound  study 
of  geognosy  and  geotectonic  geology.  Now,  it  is 
not  only  the  money;  money  I  count  as  a  rather  ques 
tionable  gift,  anyway.  But  it  is  my  own  reputation. 
What  I  have  said  I  could  do,  I  will  do."  And 
though  his  words  came  with  his  engaging  smile,  he 
seemed  as  firmly  set  in  his  determination  as  a  rock 
hardened  in  cement. 

Helen,  who  knew  her  father,  sighed  and  turned 
from  him  to  Carr.  Then  her  eyes  wandered  through 
the  open  door,  across  the  flat  lands  and  down  to 
the  distant  hills  of  Desert  Valley. 

"  I  should  not  speak  as  I  am  goingjo  speak,"  Carr 
was  saying,  "  if  matters  were  not  exactly  as  they  are. 
To  begin  with,  I  take  it  that  I  have  been  accepted 
as  a  friend.  Hence  you  will  forgive  me  if  I  appear 
to  presume  and  will  know  that  I  have  no  love  of 
interfering  in  another  man's  personal  affairs.  Then, 
I  must  say  what  I  have  to  say  now:  in  a  few  days 
I  am  leaving  you.  I've  got  to  go  to  New  York." 

2  2O 


Sanchia  Persistent 

"  Oh,"  said  Helen.     "  I  am  sorry." 

"  You  are  kind  to  me,"  he  acknowledged  gravely. 
"  And  I  am  sorry  to  go.  Unless  you  and  your 
father  will  consent  to  come  also.  Now,  I  am  going 
to  have  my  say — and,  Mr.  Longstreet,  I  hope  you 
will  forgive  me  if  I  am  assuming  a  privilege  which 
is  not  mine.  I  take  it  that  you  have  no  great  amount 
of  ready  cash.  Further,  that  your  income  has  been 
that  of  most  college  men,  who  are  all  underpaid — 
say,  three  or  four  or  five  thousand  a  ye^r.  I  have 
talked  with  Nate  Kemble  about  you.  His  concern  is 
a  tremendously  big  affair  with  head  offices  in  New 
York.  Kemble  is  a  friend  of  mine;  I  own  stock  in 
his  company;  he  will  acknowledge,  quite  as  I  am 
prepared  to  acknowledge,  that  there  is  a  place  for 
an  expert  of  your  type  in  the  company.  And  the 
place  will  pay  you,  from  the  jump,  ten  thousand 
dollars." 

Helen  fairly  gasped.  Despite  her  father's  talk 
of  the  extravagant  sums  he  meant  to  wrest  from  the 
bowels  of  the  earth,  she  had  never  dreamed  of  so 
princely  an  income  for  them.  Longstreet,  however, 
merely  shook  a  smiling  head. 

"  You're  a  real  friend,  John,"  he  said.  "  But 
here  we  stick.  And,  when  you  come  down  to  dollars 
and  cents,  I'll  eat  your  new  hat  for  you  if  I  can't 
make  ten  times  your  ten  thousand  in  the  first  year." 

Before  such  amazing  confidence  Carr  stalled. 
But  he  did  not  give  up ;  it  wasn't  his  habit  of  thought 
to  relinquish  anything  which  he  had  undertaken. 
Still  for  a  little  he  was  silent,  studying  his  man. 
Again  Helen  was  staring  out  through  the  open  door. 

"  Someone  is  coming,"  she  announced.  Then,  her 
221 


Desert  Valley 

tone  quickening,  "It  is  Mr.  Howard;  I  knew  he 
would  be  riding  over  before  night.  I  know  his 
horse,"  she  explained  hastily,  flushing  a  trifle  under 
Carr's  eyes  which  told  her  that  he  was  surprised  that 
she  could  tell  who  it  was  at  such  a  distance.  "  It 
is  the  horse  he  rode  the  first  time  we  ever  saw  him. 
There  is  someone  with  him.  It  looks  like — " 

She  did  not  say  whom  it  looked  like.  Carr  and 
Longstreet  looked  out.  The  second  rider  was  a 
woman;  her  horse  was  not  Sanchia  Murray's  white 
mare,  but  none  the  less  they  all  knew  that  with  Alan 
Howard  came  Sanchia.  Carr's  heavy  brows  gath 
ered  blackly.  The  flush  died  out  of  Helen's  face 
and  her  lips  tightened.  Longstreet  sprang  up  and 
went  to  the  door. 

"  If  it  is  Mrs.  Murray,"  he  called  back,  some 
thing  like  triumph  in  his  excited  voice,  "  and  if  she 
is  coming  here — why,  then  maybe  there  was  a  mis 
take  after  all." 

"  She  is  not  coming  here !  "  cried  Helen  hotly. 
"  Papa,  I  will  not  have  that  woman  in  the  house. 
After  the  way  she  has  cheated  you,  fooled  you,  lied 
to  you — " 

"  Come,  come,  my  dear,"  chided  Longstreet. 
"  No  one  must  be  judged  and  condemned  unheard. 
And  remember  that  she  is  coming  with  Mr. 
Howard." 

Helen  looked  hopelessly  at  Carr.  There  were 
times  when  she  utterly  despaired  of  her  father.  But 
she  could  find  comfort  in  the  thought  that  if  that 
Sanchia  woman  sought  to  perpetrate  any  more  of 
her  villainy  and  deceit,  she  was  going  to  stand  at 
her  father's  side  through  all  of  it.  Meantime  the 

222 


Sanchia  Persistent 

two  riders  came  on  swiftly.  As  they  drew  up  at 
the  door  Helen  saw  that  Howard  looked  worried 
and  ill  at  ease  and  that  Sanchia  Murray's  eyes  were 
red  as  though  with  copious  weeping.  Whereas 
Helen  sniffed  audibly. 

"  The  horrid  cat,"  she  said. 

Sanchia  began  pouring  out  a  torrent  of  confused 
words  which  Howard's  curt  speech  interrupted.  As 
he  lifted  his  hat  his  eyes  were  for  Helen  alone:  she 
flashed  him  a  scornful  look  and  turned  away  from 
him.  Then  he  turned  to  Longstreet. 

"  Mr.  Longstreet,"  he  said  sharply.  <(  I  want  you 
to  know  my  position  in  this  matter.  As  I  was  start 
ing  Mrs.  Murray  came  to  the  ranch.  I  was  nat 
urally  astonished  when  she  said  that  she  was  on  her 
way  to  see  you.  I  had  thought,  from  what  has  hap 
pened,  that  you  would  be  the  last  man  in  the  world 
whom  she  would  care  to  meet.  She  said,  however, 
that  she  must  speak  with  you  and  that  she  hoped 
she  could  do  something  to  right  matters.  When  she 
asked  for  a  fresh  horse  I  loaned  her  one.  That," 
he  concluded  harshly,  "  is  all  that  I  have  to  do  with 
Sanchia  Murray  and  all  that  I  want  to  do  with  her. 
The  rest  is  up  to  you." 

The  spite  in  Sanchia's  quick  sidelong  look  was  for 
Howard  alone. 

"  Alan  is  rather  hard  on  me,  I  think,"  she  said 
quite  simply  as  she  turned  her  eyes  upon  the  three 
at  the  cabin  door.  "  Especially,"  and  again  she 
gave  him  that  look  for  him  alone,  "  after  what  has 
been  between  us.  But  I  must  not  think  of  that  now. 
Oh,  Mr.  Longstreet,  if  you  only  knew  how  this  thing 
has  nearly  killed  me — " 

223 


Desert  Valley 

She  broke  off,  hiding  her  face  in  her  hands,  her 
body  swaying  in  the  saddle  as  though  surely  she 
would  fall.  Longstreet  looked  concerned. 

u  Get  down  and  come  in,"  he  exclaimed.  "  You 
are  utterly  exhausted.  Helen,  my  dear,  a  cup  of 
coffee,  quick.  This  poor  lady  looks  as  though  she 
hadn't  slept  or  rested  or  eaten  since  we  saw  her 
last." 

"How  could  I  eat  or  rest  or  sleep?"  cried 
Sanchia  brokenly.  "After  all  that  has  happened? 
Oh,  I  wish  I  were  dead!  " 

Helen  did  not  budge  for  the  coffee.  Her  eyes 
were  blazing.  Sanchia  slid  down  from  the  saddle 
and  came  to  the  door.  Longstreet  hastened  to  her 
side  and  the  two  went  in  together.  Helen,  without 
looking  toward  Howard,  followed,  determined  that 
she  would  hear  whatever  it  was  that  Sanchia  Murray 
had  to  say. 

"  Come  in,  Howard,"  Longstreet  remembered  to 
say.  "  We're  having  supper.  Both  you  and  Mrs. 
Murray  will  eat  with  us." 

Sanchia  bathed  her  eyes  and  they  all  sat  down. 
When  Howard  looked  toward  Helen  she  ignored 
him.  Outside  Carr  had  demanded,  "  What  in  hell's 
name  made  you  bring  that  woman  here?  "  and  Alan 
had  rejoined,  "  I  couldn't  stop  her  coming,  could 
I  ?  " ;  and  now  the  two  had  nothing  to  say  to  each 
other.  Longstreet,  nervous  and  impatient  for  what 
ever  explanations  were  coming,  fidgeted  constantly 
until  Sanchia  began  speaking. 

"  When  I  learned  what  had  happened,"  she  said, 
"  I  thought  at  first  that  I  could  not  live  to  endure 
it.  I  could  have  shrieked;  I  could  have  killed 

224 


Sanchia  Persistent 

myself.  To  think  that  /  had  been  the  cause  of  it 
all.  Oh,  it  was  hideous!  But  then  I  knew  that  I 
must  live  and  that  I  must  seek  somehow  to  make 
reparation.  All  of  my  life,  as  long  as  I  live,  I  shall 
hope  and  try  and  work  to  undo  what  I  have  done." 

She  was  watching  them  all  through  her  handker 
chief,  which  she  was  using  to  dab  her  eyes;  of  Long- 
street  she  never  for  an  instant  lost  sight.  She  saw 
the  eagerness  in  his  eyes  and  knew  that  it  was  an 
eagerness  to  believe  in  her.  She  saw  Helen's  anger 
and  contempt;  she  saw  Carr's  black  looks;  she  saw, 
too,  how  Howard  kept  his  eyes  always  on  Helen's 
face,  and  she  read  what  was  so  easy  to  read  in  them. 
It  was  her  business,  her  chief  affair  in  life  just  now, 
to  keep  her  two  eyes  wide  open;  hence  she  saw, 
too,  the  look  which  Helen  had  flashed  at  the  cattle 
man.  And  while  she  observed  all  of  this  she  was 
speaking  rapidly,  almost  incoherently,  as  though  her 
one  concern  lay  in  the  tragic  error  she  had  made. 
Had  she  been  less  than  a  very  clever  woman  who  had 
long  lived,  and  lived  well,  by  her  wits,  she  must  have 
found  the  situation  too  much  for  her.  But  no  one 
of  her  hearers,  excepting  possibly  the  one  chiefly 
interested,  failed  to  do  Sanchia  Murray  justice  for 
her  cleverness.  As  it  was  she  did  not  fear  the  out 
come  from  the  outset. 

She  told  how  she  had  been  so  overjoyed  at  Long- 
street's  news;  how,  for  that  dear  child  Helen's 
sake,  she  had  rejoiced;  how  she  had  for  a  little  felt 
less  lonely  in  sharing  a  secret  meant  for  a  wonderful 
birthday  surprise;  how  she  had  yearned  to  help  in 
this  glowing  hour  of  happiness.  She  had  tried  to 
help  Mr.  Longstreet  with  Mr.  Harkness  at  the 

225 


Desert  Valley 

courthouse;  she  had  learned  that  he  was  out  of 
town;  she  had  been  told  that  his  assistant  was  at 
the  Montezuma  House.  In  spite  of  her  abhorrence 
of  going  to  such  a  place  she  had  gone,  carried  away 
by  the  high  tide  of  excitement.  And  there  she  had 
been  tricked  into  introducing  Mr.  Longstreet  to  no 
less  terrible  a  creature  than  Monte  Devine.  She 
hastened  to  add  that  she  told  Mr.  Longstreet  that 
she  did  not  know  this  man;  he  would  bear  her  out 
in  this;  she  too  had  been  tricked.  But  she  would 
never,  never  forgive  herself. 

"  Nor,"  said  Helen's  voice  coldly,  "  will  I  ever 
forgive  you.  Nor  am  I  the  fool  to  believe  all  these 
tales.  Maybe  you  can  make  a  fool  of  my  father, 
but—" 

"  Helen,  Helen,"  expostulated  Longstreet  sternly, 
"  you  are  being  hasty.  At  times  like  this  one  should 
seek  to  be  kind  and  just." 

Again  Helen's  sniff  was  audible  and  eloquent. 

"  Do  you  mean,"  she  demanded,  "  that  you  be 
lieve  all  of  this  nonsense  ?  " 

"  I  mean,  my  dear,  that  one  should  be  deliberate. 
Mrs.  Murray  has  made  an  explanation,  she  is  plainly 
sick  with  grief  at  what  has  occurred.  She  has  ridden 
straight  to  us.  What  more  could  one  do?  When 
you  are  older,  my  dear,  and  have  seen  more  of  life 
you  will  know  that  the  world  sometimes  makes  ter 
rible  mistakes." 

"You  are  so  great-hearted!"  sobbed  Sanchia. 
"  So  wonderful !  There  is  not  another  man  in  the 
world  who  would  be  even  tolerant  at  a  time  like 
this.  And  to  think  that  it  is  you — you  whom  I  have 
hurt."  Her  sobs  overcame  her. 

226 


Sanchia  Persistent 

Helen  flung  herself  angrily  to  her  feet. 

"  Papa,"  she  cried,  "  can't  you  see,  can't  you 
understand  that  this  woman  is  determined  to  make 
a  fool  of  you  again?  Hasn't  she  done  it  once  al 
ready?  Oh,  are  you  going  to  be  just  a  little  baby 
in  her  hands?  " 

Sanchia  lowered  her  handkerchief  for  a  swift 
glance  at  Helen  and  then  at  the  other  faces  in  the 
room.  The  sternness  on  Howard's  and  Carr's  faces 
did  not  greatly  concern  her,  for  she  saw  written 
across  Longstreet's  countenance  just  about  what  she 
had  counted  on.  And  Helen's  words  had  simply 
succeeded  in  drawing  his  indignation  toward  his 
daughter.  Hence,  wisely,  Sanchia  was  content  to 
be  silent  for  a  spell.  Matters  seemed  to  be  going 
well  enough  left  alone. 

Helen  had  meant  to  run  out  of  doors,  to  close 
her  ears  to  this  maddening  discussion.  She  felt  that 
it  was  either  that  or  deliberately  slap  Sanchia  Mur 
ray's  face.  Now,  however,  she  sat  down  again,  de 
ciding  with  a  degree  of  acumen  that  Sanchia  would 
prefer  nothing  to  a  tete-a-tete  with  Longstreet. 

"  After  all,"  said  Helen  more  quietly  and  with  a 
look  which  was  hard  as  it  flashed  across  Sanchia's 
face  to  Howard's  and  then  on,  "  threshing  all  this 
over  is  valueless.  Forgive  her,  father,"  she  went 
on  contemptuously,  "  if  either  of  you  will  feel  better 
for  it,  and  don't  detain  her.  We  are  going  back 
East  in  a  few  days,  anyway." 

Howard  stared  at  her  wonderingly  as  Carr  nod 
ded  his  approval  of  the  speech.  But  Longstreet 
spoke  with  considerable  emphasis. 

"  Aren't  you  rather  premature  in  your  announce- 
227 


Desert  Valley 

ment,  my  'dear?    I  am  not  going  back  East  at  all." 

There  might  have  been  no  discussion  of  the  mat 
ter  had  he  ended  there.  But  seeing  the  various 
expressions  called  by  his  words  to  the  faces  about 
the  table,  he  added  the  challenge : 

"Why  should  I  go?  Haven't  I  already  demon 
strated  that  I  know  what  I  am  doing?  Isn't  this  the 
place  for  me?  " 

Helen  answered  him  first  and  energetically.  He 
should  go,  she  cried  hotly,  because  he  had  demon 
strated  nothing  at  all  save  that  he  was  a  lamb  in 
a  den  of  wolves.  He  was  a  university  man  and  not 
a  mountaineer  or  desert  Indian;  he  knew  books  and 
he  did  not  know  men;  it  was  his  duty  to  himself 
and  to  his  daughter  to  return  home.  The  girl's 
color  deepened  and  grew  hot  with  her  rapid  speech, 
and  Sanchia,  sitting  back,  watching  and  listening, 
lost  never  a  word.  Before  Longstreet  could  shape 
a  reply  John  Carr  added  his  voice  to  Helen's  plea. 
He  said  all  that  he  had  said  once  before  today;  he 
elaborated  his  argument,  which  to  him  appeared 
unanswerable.  When  he  had  done,  always  speak 
ing  quietly,  he  turned  to  Howard. 

"  Don't  you  think  I  am  right,  Al?  "  he  asked. 

"  No !  "  replied  Howard  emphatically.  "  I  don't. 
Mr.  Longstreet  does  know  his  business.  He  has 
located  one  mine  in  this  short  time.  It  was  not 
chance;  it  was  science.  There  is  more  gold  left  in 
these  hills.  Give  him  time  and  a  free  swing,  and 
he'll  find  it." 

Carr  appeared  amazed. 

"  I  can't  imagine  what  makes  you  talk  like  that, 
Al,"  he  said  shortly.  "  It's  rather  a  serious  thing 

228 


Sanchia  Persistent 

with  the  Longstreets  which  way  they  move  now. 
You  are  deliberately  encouraging  him  to  buck  a 
game  which  he  ought  to  leave  to  another  type  of 


man." 


"  Deliberately  is  the  right  word,"  said  Howard. 
"  And  I  can't  quite  understand  what  makes  you  seek 
to  discourage  him  and  pack  him  off  to  the  East 
again." 

Carr  was  silent.  Sanchia's  eyes,  very  bright,  grew 
brighter  with  a  keen  look  of  understanding.  Very 
innocently  she  spoke. 

"Are  you  thinking  of  going  East,  too,  Mr. 
Carr?  "  she  asked. 

4  Yes,"  snapped  Carr.     "  I  am.     What  of  it?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  said  Sanchia.  But  she  laughed. 
Then  as  Longstreet  was  opening  his  mouth  to  make 
his  own  statement,  she  cut  in,  turning  to  him,  speak 
ing  directly  to  him,  in  some  subtle  way  giving  the 
impression  that  she  was  quite  oblivious  of  anyone 
but  of  him  and  herself. 

"  You  mustn't  go,"  she  said  softly.  She  studied 
his  face  and  then  put  a  light  hand  on  his  arm.  Helen 
stiffened.  "  How  shall  I  say  all  that  I  feel  here?  " 
She  gave  an  effective  gesture  as  she  pressed  the  other 
hand  against  her  own  bosom.  "  You  have  come  into 
a  land  of  nothing  but  ignorance  and  into  it  you  have 
brought  the  brain  of  a  scholar.  You  said,  *  I  will 
find  gold '  and  they  laughed  at  you — and  you  found 
it!  It  was  not  chance;  Alan  was  right.  It  was  the 
act  of  a  man  who  knew.  This  land  has  many  kinds 
of  men,  Mr.  Longstreet.  It  has  no  other  man  like 
you.  It  needs  you.  You  must  stay!  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Helen.  It  was  scarcely  more  than  a 
229 


Desert  Valley 

gasp,  and  yet  it  bespoke  profound  disgust.  The 
woman  was  insufferable.  Here,  upon  the  top  of  her 
treachery,  was  most  palpable  flattery.  Surely  her 
father  would  not  fail  to  see  now  the  woman's  true 
character;  surely  he  must  balk  at  such  talk  as  this. 
But  he  was  beaming  again  as  though  the  clouds  of 
a  storm  had  passed  and  the  sunlight  were  streaming 
upon  him;  he  rubbed  his  hands  together  and  spoke 
cheerfully. 

"  Sanchia  is  right;  Alan  is  right.  These  two 
understand  me.  I  shall  show  to  the  world  that  they 
have  not  misjudged  me.  I  know  my  own  limitations. 
I  am  no  superman.  I  have  made  blunders  in  my 
time.  But  I  do  know  my  own  work,  and  I  am  the 
only  man  here  who  does !  In  a  way  Sanchia  is  right 
when  she  says  that  this  country  needs  me.  It  does. 
And  I  need  it.  We  are  going  to  stay,  my  dear." 

Sanchia  flashed  Helen  a  look  of  triumph;  her  eyes, 
passing  on  to  Howard,  held  briefly  a  sparkle  of 
malice. 

u  Alan  and  I  are  very  grateful  to  have  your  ap 
proval,"  she  said  sweetly.  "  Aren't  we,  Alan?  "  and 
again  her  look  was  for  Helen  and  was  triumphant. 

Helen  pushed  her  plate  away  and  for  a  second 
time  rose  abruptly. 

"  I'll  choke  if  I  stay  in  here,"  she  said.  And,  with 
breast  heaving,  she  went  to  the  door  and  out  into 
the  fading  afternoon.  Sanchia's  glance  followed  her 
and  then  returned  placidly  to  the  men. 

"The  dear  child  is  high-strung,  and  Heaven 
knows  she  has  been  through  enough  to  upset  any 
one,"  she  said  condoningly.  Then,  "  Mr.  Carr  and 
you,  Alan-j  don't  seem  to  be  hungry  any  more.  I 

230 


Sanchia  Persistent 

would  like  a  word  with  Mr.  Longstreet,  and  if  you 
two  went  out  to  Helen  perhaps  you  might  soothe 
her.  Remember  she  is  only  a  child  after  all." 

Glad  of  the  excuse  to  be  gone,  both  men  rose. 
As  they  went  out  they  saw  how  Sanchia  was  already 
leaning  toward  Longstreet,  how  her  hand  had  again 
found  its  way  to  his  arm.  Then  they  lost  sight  of 
her  and  saw  Helen  standing  upon  the  cliff  edge, 
looking  off  to  the  lowlands  of  the  south.  In  silence 
they  joined  her. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I  love  this  country  or 
hate  it  most/'  Helen  said  without  withdrawing  her 
troubled  eyes  from  the  expanse  of  Desert  Valley. 
The  sun  was  down,  the  distances  were  veiled  in 
tender  shades,  pale  greens  of  the  meadowlands, 
dusky  greys  of  the  hills.  u  If  it  were  only  all  like 
that;  if  there  were  only  the  glorious  valley  and  the 
peace  of  it  instead  of  this  hideous  life  up  here !  " 

It  was  in  Alan  Howard's  heart  to  cry  out  to 
her,  "  Come  down  into  the  peace  of  it;  it  is  all  mine. 
Come  down  to  live  there  with  me."  It  may  have 
been  in  John  Carr's  heart  to  whisper:  "  It  is  mine 
until  the  last  cent  is  paid  on  it;  if  you  love  it  so, 
there  may  still  be  the  way  to  get  it  back  for  you." 
But  neither  man  spoke  his  thought.  The  three 
stood  close  together,  the  girl  with  troubled  eyes 
standing  between  the  two  friends,  and  all  of  their 
eyes  searched  into  the  mystery  of  the  coming  dusk. 

From  the  cabin  came  the  sound  of  a  laugh.  It 
was  Longstreet's,  and  it  was  like  a  pleased  child's. 


231 


CHAPTER  XX 
TWO  FRIENDS  AND  A  GIRL 

HOWARD  and  Carr  rode  down  into  the  dark 
ening  valley  side  by  side.  The  silence  of  the 
coming  dusk  was  no  deeper  than  that  silence  which 
had  crept  about  them  while  the  three  stood  upon 
the  cliff's  edge.  Longstreet's  laugh  had  whipped 
up  the  color  into  Helen's  cheeks  and  had  lighted  a 
battle  fire  in  her  eyes.  She  had  whisked  away  from 
them  and  gone  straight  back  to  the  cabin,  meaning 
to  save  her  father  from  his  own  artlessness  and 
from  the  snare  of  a  designing  widow.  She  had  re 
membered  to  call  out  a  breathless  "  Good-night " 
without  turning  her  head.  They  had  taken  their 
dismissal  together,  understanding  Helen's  tortured 
mood.  Each  man  grave  and  taciturn,  like  two  auto 
matons  they  buckled  on  their  spurs,  mounted  and 
reined  toward  the  trail. 

Then  Howard  had  said  merely:  "  Come  down  to 
the  ranch  house,  John.  I  want  to  talk  with  you." 
And  Carr  had  nodded  and  acquiesced.  Thereafter 
they  were  silent  again  for  a  long  time. 

The  coming  of  night  is  a  time  of  vague  veilings, 
of  grotesque  transformations,  of  remoulding  and 
steeping  in  new  dyes.  Matter-of-fact  objects,  clear- 
cut  during  the  day,  assume  fantastic  shapes;  a  bush 
may  appear  a  crouching  mountain  cat;  a  rock  may 
masquerade  as  a  mastodon.  This  is  an  hour  of  un- 

232 


Two  Friends  and  a  Girl 

certainties.  And  doubtings  and  questionings  and 
uncertainties  were  other  shadow  shapes  thronging 
the  demesnes  of  two  men's  souls.  Silence  and  dim 
dusk  without,  dim  dusk  and  silence  within. 

Once  Howard,  the  lighter  spirited  of  the  two, 
sought  to  laugh  the  constraint  away. 

"  Something  seems  to  have  come  over  us,  John,"  he 
said.  But  as  he  spoke  he  knew  that  what  he  should 
have  said  was  that  something  had  come  between 
them.  Further,  he  knew  that  Carr  would  have 
amended  his  words  thus  in  his  own  mind  and  that 
that  was  why  he  did  not  reply.  He  recalled  vividly 
how  they  three  had  stood  on  the  cliff,  he  on  Helen's 
left,  John  on  her  right.  He  and  John  were  friends; 
in  the  desert  lands  friendship  is  sacred.  Further, 
it  is  mighty,  stalwart,  godly  and  all  but  indomitable. 
They  had  shared  together,  fought  together.  One 
friend  would  do  to  the  uttermost  for  the  other, 
would  die  for  him.  He  would  rush  into  the  other's 
fight,  asking  no  questions,  and  if  he  went  down  the 
chill  of  coming  death  would  be  warmed  by  the  glow 
of  conscious  sacrifice.  The  friendship  of  Howard 
and  Carr  had  stood  the  many  tests  of  time.  But  only 
now  had  the  supreme  test  come.  Until  today,  either 
of  them  in  the  generousness  of  his  spirit  would  have 
stepped  gladly  aside  for  the  other.  But  now?  A 
girl  is  not  a  cup  of  water  that  one  man,  dying  of 
thirst,  may  say  of  her  to  his  friend:  "Take  her." 
Their  friendship  was  not  changed;  simply  it  was  no 
longer  the  greatest  thing  in  life.  The  love  of  a 
man  for  a  man,  though  it  be  strengthened  by  ten 
thousand  ties,  is  less  than  the  love  of  a  man  for  his 
chosen  mate,  though  to  the  other  eyes  and  minds 

233 


Desert  Valley 

that  love  may  be  inexplicable.  Set  any  Damon  and 
Pythias  upon  an  isolated  desert  island,  then  into  their 
lives  bring  the  soft  eyes  of  a  girl,  and  inevitably 
the  day  will  dawn  when  those  eyes  will  look  upon 
the  death  of  a  friendship.  This  knowledge  had  at 
last  become  a  part  of  the  understandings  of  Alan 
Howard  and  John  Carr. 

"  You  are  going  East,  John?"  asked  Howard 
when  at  length  his  spirit  sought  a  second  time  to 
shake  off  the  oppression  of  the  hour. 

Even  these  words  came  with  something  of  an 
effort.  He  tried  to  speak  naturally.  But  behind  his 
words  were  troops  of  confused  thoughts;  Carr  was 
going  East,  and  had  said  nothing  to  him;  if  Carr 
left,  what  then  of  Helen?  Carr  had  tried  to  per 
suade  the  Longstreets  to  go  with  him. 

And  to  Carr  the  query  sounded  more  careless, 
more  lightly  casual  than  Howard  had  intended.  His 
own  thoughts  were  quick  to  respond  though  his 
reply  came  after  a  noticeable  hesitation.  Alan  did 
not  appear  to  care  whether  he  went  away  or  re 
mained;  he  had  not  asked  if  this  were  to  be  a  brief 
absence  or  an  indefinite  sojourn. 

"  Yes,"  Carr's  answer  at  last  was  short  and  blunt; 
"  I  have  business  there." 

Carr  thought  that  if  Alan  were  interested  he  would 
ask  naturally,  as  one  friend  had  always  asked  the 
other,  to  know  more.  Howard  thought  that  if  Carr 
cared  to  speak  of  his  own  personal  affairs  he  would 
do  so.  Hence,  while  both  waited,  neither  spoke. 
Perhaps  both  were  hurt.  Certainly  the  constraint 
between  them  thickened  and  deepened  in  step  with 
the  engulfing  night;  they  could  not  see  each  other's 

234 


Two  Friends  and  a  Girl 

faces,  they  could  not  glimpse  each  other's  souls.  Both 
were  baffled  and  into  the  temper  of  each  came  a 
growing  irritation.  One  thing  alone  they  appeared 
to  have  in  common — the  desire  to  come  to  the  end 
of  the  ride.  Their  spurs  dipped  and  they  racecl 
along  wordlessly. 

When  Howard  dismounted  at  the  home  corrals 
and  began  unsaddling,  Carr  rode  on  to  the  house. 

*  You're  going  to  stay  all  night,  John,"  Howard 
called  after  him.     "  Put  your  horse  in  the  barn." 

But  Carr  swung  down  at  the  yard  gate  and  tied 
his  horse  there. 

"  Can't  this  time,"  he  said.  "  Fll  have  to  ride 
on,  Al." 

Thus  each  made  his  pretense,  less  to  his  friend 
than  to  himself,  that  everything  was  all  right.  They 
sought  to  be  natural  and  failed,  and  knew  that  they 
had  failed.  Carr  waited  for  Howard,  smoking  at 
the  gate ;  Howard  hastened  up  to  the  house  and  went 
in.  He  struck  a  match,  lighted  the  table  lamp  and 
filled  the  pipe  lying  beside  it.  Carr  tossed  his  hat 
to  the  table  and  sat  down.  Their  eyes  roved  about 
the  familiar  room.  Here  were  countless  traces  of 
both  men;  Carr  had  lived  here,  Howard  lived  here 
now.  Helen  had  been  here,  and  she  too  had  left 
something  to  mark  her  passing.  They  both  saw  it. 
It  was  only  a  bluebird's  feather,  but  Alan  had  set 
it  in  a  place  of  conspicuousness  just  above  the  fire 
place.  Even  into  a  room  which  had  been  home 
to  each,  which  they  had  held  must  always  be  home  to 
both,  something  of  Helen  came  like  a  little  ghost. 

'  You'll  have  use  for  some  money  about  now," 
said  Howard  abruptly.  He  drew  out  the  table 

235 


Desert  Valley 

drawer;  inside  were  scraps  of  paper,  a  fountain 
pen,  a  check  book  and  some  old  stubs.  "  Time's  up 
for  a  payment,  too.  I  sold  a  pretty  fair  string  the 
other  day." 

4<  I  could  use  a  little  cash,"  Carr  admitted  care 
lessly.  "  I've  got  in  pretty  deep  with  the  Quigley 
mining  outfit.  I  made  Longstreet  a  proposition — 
I  am  a  trifle  short,  I  guess,"  he  concluded  lamely. 

"  I  see,"  responded  Howard,  whereas  he  saw 
nothing  at  all  very  clearly.  He  busied  himself  with 
his  pen,  shook  it  savagely,  opened  his  check  book. 
"Ten  thousand  this  trip,  wasn't  it?" 

Carr  hesitated. 

"  I  had  figured  on  twelve  five,"  he  said.  "  Wasn't 
that  the  amount  due  now?" 

Howard  hunted  through  the  back  of  the  drawer 
and  finally  found  a  little  memorandum  book.  He 
turned  through  the  pages  upon  which  he  had  scrib 
bled  notes  of  purchases  of  cattle  and  horses  and  of 
ranch  equipment,  passed  on  to  a  tabulation  of  his 
men's  wages,  and  finally  stopped  at  a  page  devoted 
to  his  agreement  with  his  friend. 

"  Here  you  are,"  he  said  when  he  had  found  it. 
"  Ten  thousand,  due  on  the  eleventh  of  the  month. 
I'm  pretty  near  a  week  late  on  it,  John,"  he  smiled. 

Carr  however  had  his  own  note  book  with  him; 
readily  he  found  his  own  entry. 

"  I've  set  it  down  here  as  twelve  thousand  five 
hundred,"  he  said  quietly.  "  You  remember  we 
talked  over  a  couple  of  methods  of  payment,  Al. 
But,"  and  he  snapped  the  rubber  band  about  his  book 
and  dropped  it  into  his  pocket,  "  what's  the  odds? 
Let  it  go  at  ten." 

236 


Two  Friends  and  a  Girl 

"  No,"  said  Howard.  "  Not  if  you've  counted  on 
more."  A  flush  ran  up  into  his  face  and  his  eyes 
were  inscrutable.  He  was  conscious  of  being  in  the 
absurd  mood  to  note  trifles ;  John  had  come  with  his 
memoranda,  John  had  meant  to  ask  him  for  the 
money.  "  I'd  just  as  lief  pay  twenty-five  hundred 
extra  now  as  at  any  time."  And  with  lowered  head 
and  sputtering  pen  he  wrote  the  check. 

"  I  don't  want  to  inconvenience  you,  Al."  Carr 
accepted  the  check  with  certain  reluctance.  u  Sure 
it's  all  right?" 

"  Sure,"  said  Howard  emphatically.  He  tossed 
the  pen  and  book  into  the  drawer.  Now  the  awk 
wardness  of  the  silence  upon  them  was  more  marked 
than  ever  before.  Carr  tarried  only  a  few  minutes, 
during  which  both  men  were  ill  at  ease.  Only  an 
expressionless  "So  long!"  passed  between  them 
when  he  got  up  to  go.  They  might  see  each  other 
again  before  Carr  went  East;  they  might  not. 
Howard  went  back  to  his  chair  at  the  table,  staring 
moodily  at  the  bluebird  feather. 

Nothing  of  the  instinct  of  a  clerk  had  ever  filtered 
into  the  habits  of  Alan  Howard.  His  system  of 
books  was  simple.  He  set  down  in  one  place  the 
amounts  which  came  in;  in  another  place  those  ex 
pended.  He  added  and  subtracted.  He  deposited 
his  money  in  the  bank  and  checked  it  out.  He  must 
bank  more  when  the  last  was  gone.  That  was  about 
all.  It  was  seldom  that  he  knew  just  how  far  his 
assets  were  above  his  liabilities  or  below.  But 
tonight  he  knew  that  he  had  strained  his  account. 
He  had  counted  on  paying  ten  thousand  and  had 
I  237 


Desert  Valley 

paid  twelve  thousand  five  hundred.  He  turned  first 
to  his  check  book,  which  had  not  been  balanced  for 
a  couple  of  months.  No  adept  at  figures  he  spilled 
much  ink,  scratched  out  many  calculations  and  went 
through  them  again,  grew  hot  and  exasperated  and 
finally  before  he  got  anywhere  was  in  a  mood  to 
damn  everything  that  came  under  his  hand.  It  was 
midnight  when  he  had  assembled  upon  one  sheet  of 
paper  an  approximately  truthful  statement  of  his 
financial  condition.  And  then  he  sat  back  limply  and 
lifted  his  eyebrows  and  whistled. 

Within  something  less  than  thirty  days  he  must 
take  up  a  note  which  Pony  Lee  held  for  a  thousand 
dollars;  Pony  would  want  the  money  and  had  said 
as  much  when  he  had  advanced  it.  Then  there  were 
the  calves,  due  within  the  week,  from  French  Valley; 
Tony  Vaca  was  rushing  them,  was  selling  at  a  very 
low  figure  and  would  want  his  money  on  the  nail. 
Well,  he  must  have  it.  That  was  another  seven  hun 
dred  dollars.  There  was  another  note  held  by  Engle, 
down  in  San  Juan.  The  banker  might  extend  it; 
he  might  not.  It  was  for  fifteen  hundred  dollars, 
and  would  fall  due  within  sixty  days.  On  top  of  this 
were  the  running  expenses :  the  ranch  was  working 
full-handed,  the  men  would  want  their  wages  a  week 
from  Saturday;  this  was  Tuesday.  He  turned  to 
their  accounts;  three  or  four  of  them  had  not  drawn 
down  last  month.  They  would  all  want  their  money 
when  next  payday  came.  He  estimated  the  amount. 
In  the  neighborhood  of  seven  hundred  dollars.  He 
totaled  all  of  these  forthcoming  payments.  The 
aggregate  was  close  to  four  thousand  dollars.  And 
his  check  book,  balanced  to  date,  indicated  that  he 

238 


Two  Friends  and  a  Girl 

had  overdrawn  to  make  the  payment  to  Carr.  He 
could  have  paid  the  ten  thousand  and  have  had 
something  over  two  thousand  in  cold  cash  to  run 
on ;  now  he  had  not  enough  in  the  San  Juan  bank  to 
make  his  own  check  good. 

"  If  Carr  had  only  been  satisfied  with  the  ten 
thousand,"  he  muttered.  "  Or  if  he  had  given  me 
warning  ahead  that  he  wanted  the  extra  twenty-five 
hundred.  Now  what?" 

None  of  these  issues  were  clouded,  and  in  due  time 
he  decided  upon  all  points.  He  gave  up  all  thought 
of  bed,  made  himself  a  pot  of  coffee  and  sat  up  all 
night,  devoting  himself  to  details.  The  check  he  had 
given  Carr  must  be  honored;  hence  he  must  ride 
tomorrow  to  San  Juan  to  see  Engle,  the  banker.  He 
was  only  a  few  hundred  dollars  short  there  and 
Engle  would  help  him  to  balance  the  account.  The 
fifteen  hundred  he  owed  the  bank  on  his  personal 
note  could  no  doubt  be  extended  if  necessary.  There 
remained  the  money  for  the  calves,  the  thousand  due 
Pony  Lee  and  another  thousand  to  pay  his  men  and 
for  such  necessities  as  would  arise.  All  of  this  he 
would  talk  over  with  Engle.  It  might  be  that  the 
bank  would  take  a  mortgage  on  his  equity  in  Desert 
Valley  and  advance  a  considerable  sum  on  it. 

But  he  must  not  forget  that  the  present  crisis  was 
not  all  to  be  considered.  Another  year  would  bring 
the  time  of  another  payment  to  Carr.  In  the  mean 
time  the  ranch  must  be  operated,  it  must  be  made 
to  pay.  He  had  already  planned  on  asking  exten 
sions  from  Engle;  but  it  did  not  enter  his  thought 
now  to  ask  John  Carr  to  wait. 

"  I've  got  my  work  cut  out  for  me,"  said  Howard 

239 


Desert  Valley 

grimly.  "  I've  got  to  work  like  hell,  that's  all.  Fve 
got  to  carve  down  expenses,  fire  men  I  can  manage 
without,  be  on  the  job  all  the  time  to  buy  in  stock 
cheap  wherever  it  can  be  got  and  unload  for  a  quick 
turnover  and  some  ready  cash.  I've  got  to  go  in 
for  more  hay  and  wheat  another  season;  the  price 
is  up  and  going  higher.  And  real  soon,  the  chances 
are,  I've  got  to  sell  some  more  cows." 

Before  dawn  he  was  at  the  men's  bunkhouse.  He 
woke  Chuck  Evans  and  told  him  to  hurry  into  his 
clothes  and  come  up  to  the  house.  When  Chuck 
came  the  two  men  sat  down  at  the  table,  pencil  and 
paper  in  Howard's  hand,  Chuck's  eyes  keen  upon  his 
employer's  set  face. 

"  I'm  right  down  to  cases,  Chuck,"  said  Howard 
bluntly.  "  I  am  in  up  to  my  neck,  and  that's  all 
there  is  to  it.  As  soon  as  I  get  through  with  you 
I  am  off  to  San  Juan  to  see  if  there  is  any  real  money 
left  in  the  world.  I'll  be  back  as  soon  as  I  can. 
But  you  get  busy  while  I'm  gone.  First  thing,  here 
are  five  men  you  will  have  to  give  their  time.  Tell 
them  why;  tell  them  there's  always  a  job  open  for 
them  here  when  I've  got  the  cash  for  payday.  Then 
you  and  what's  left  will  get  your  necks  into  your 
collars  and  go  to  it,  long  hours  and  hard  work  until 
we  pull  out.  Get  the  boys  out  this  morning  for 
another  round-up.  Bring  in  every  hoof  and  tail  that 
will  size  up  for  a  decent  sale.  If  you  can  get  time, 
ride  down  to  San  Ramon  and  see  if  there's  a  chance 
to  sell  a  string  of  mules  to  the  road  gang.  That's 
about  all  this  time ;  look  for  me  back  in  two  or  three 
days." 

"  All  right,  Al,"  said  Evans.  "  So  long."  He 
240 


Two  Friends  and  a  Girl 

went  to  the  door  and  paused.  He  wanted  to  say 
something  and  didn't  know  just  what  to  say  or  how 
to  say  it.  So  he  coughed  and  said  again,  "  Well, 
so  long,  Al,"  and  went  out. 

In  the  first  flush  of  the  dawn  Howard  rode  away 
toward  San  Juan.  He  turned  in  the  saddle  and 
looked  back  toward  the  Last  Ridge  country.  He 
fancied  that  he  could  make  out  the  Longstreet  cabin 
even  when  he  knew  that  his  lover's  desire  was 
tricking  his  sense.  He  thought  of  Helen ;  she  would 
be  sleeping  now.  He  would  not  see  her  for  several 
days.  He  thought  of  John  Carr;  Carr  would  see 
her  every  day  until  he  was  forced  to  go  East.  Carr 
had  not  confided  in  him  when  he  expected  to  leave. 
His  eyes  left  the  uplands  lingeringly  and  wandered 
across  the  sweeping  fields  of  Desert  Valley.  He 
straightened  in  the  saddle  and  his  lungs  filled  and 
expanded.  The  valley  was  his,  his  to  work  for,  to 
struggle  and  plan  for,  to  make  over  as  he  would 
have  it — to  hold  for  Helen.  For  Helen  loved  it 
no  less  than  he  loved  it.  And  he  loved  Helen. 

"...  One  should  be  loyal  to  one's  friend." 
He  held  to  that  stoutly,  insistent  and  stubborn  to 
play  his  part.  Something  had  come  over  him  and 
Carr,  or  between  them;  but  none  the  less  he  obsti 
nately  sought  to  refuse  to  harbor  thoughts  which 
came  again  and  again  and  which  always  angered  him 
with  himself.  There  was  the  suspicion:  "  Carr  was 
unfair  in  seeking  to  take  Helen  and  her  father  away 
with  him  to  the  East."  He  told  himself  that  that 
was  Carr's  right  if  Carr  held  it  so.  There  came  the 
accusation :  "  Carr  had  been  hard  on  him  last  night." 
He  told  himself  that  it  was  easily  granted  that  they 

241 


Desert  Valley 

had  misunderstood  each  other  when,  long  ago,  they 
had  arranged  for  the  payments;  further  that  no 
doubt  Carr,  too,  was  hard  up  for  cash.  The  thought 
suggested  itself:  "  Carr  had  no  right  to  berate  him 
for  allowing  Sanchia  to  ride  to  the  Longstreet 
cabin."  Carr  had  spoken  quickly,  unthinkingly,  and 
they  all  were  under  stress.  He  would  play  fair  and 
give  a  man  his  due — and  his  thoughts  switched  to 
Helen,  and  Carr  was  forgotten  and,  with  a  half- 
smile  on  his  lips,  he  rode  on  through  the  brightening 
morning,  dreaming  of  the  ranch  that  should  be 
when  Helen  came  with  him  to  ride  and  their  hands 
found  each  other  and  she  whispered:  "I  love  it 
and — it  is  ours !  " 

John  Engle,  the  banker  of  San  Juan,  was  some 
thing  more  than  a  banker.  Not  only  was  he  a  fine, 
upstanding,  broad-minded  man;  he  was  a  man,  no 
longer  in  the  first  flush  of  youth,  who  had  made  him 
self  what  he  was  and  who  from  forty-five  vividly 
recalled  twenty-five.  He  had  learned  caution,  but 
he  had  known  what  it  was  to  plunge  head-first  into 
deep  waters.  That  now,  a  man  established,  he  no 
longer  had  to  take  long  chances,  was  due  largely  to 
the  successes  met  in  long  chances  taken  when  all  of 
life  lay  before  him,  inviting.  When  now  Alan 
Howard  came  to  him  in  his  office  at  the  bank  and 
put  his  case  before  him  straightforwardly  and  with 
out  evasion  or  reservation,  he  came  to  the  one  man 
in  the  world  who  because  of  his  position  and  his 
character  could  best  help  him. 

"  Take  it  slow,  Alan,"  said  Engle  quietly.  "  I 
can  give  you  the  whole  day,  if  necessary.  I've  got 

242 


Two  Friends  and  a  Girl 

to  know  just  where  you  stand  and  just  which  way 
you  are  headed  before  I  can  get  anywhere." 

He  drew  out  his  pad  and  very  methodically  began 
to  set  down  figures  as  the  cattleman  talked.  Finally: 

"  It's  the  bank's  money,  not  my  own,  that  I'll  be 
advancing  you,  you  know.  I  am  pretty  well  sewed 
up  personally  as  usual.  Consequently,  while  I  can 
see  you  over  a  few  of  the  immediate  bumps  in  your 
trail,  I  can't  give  you  all  that  you'll  want.  But  I 
fancy  you  can  get  across  with  it."  His  keen  eyes 
took  fresh  stock  of  the  cattleman,  marking  the  as 
sertive  strength,  the  clean  build,  the  erect  carriage, 
the  hard  hands,  the  lean  jaw  and  finally  the  steady 
eyes  which  always  met  his  own.  The  personal  equa 
tion  always  counts,  perhaps  with  the  banker  more 
than  most  men  imagine,  and  John  Engle  found  no 
sign  of  any  deterioration  in  the  security  offered  by 
Alan  Howard's  personality.  "  It's  a  good  thing, 
anyway,"  he  went  on,  with  the  first  hint  of  a  twinkle 
in  his  regard,  "  for  a  youngster  like  you  to  have  to 
scrap  things  out  after  the  old  fashion. — Not  mar 
ried  yet,  are  you?  " 

"  No,"  said  Alan. 

Engle  laughed. 

"  But  hoping  to  be?  Well,  it's  time.  That's  a 
good  ballast  for  a  man.  Now,  I've  got  this  pretty 
straight,  let's  have  your  plans.  You  hope  to  swing 
the  ranch  all  right,  or  you  wouldn't  be  calling 
on  me.  You're  in  deep  already  and,  of  course,  if 
it's  a  human  possibility  you've  got  to  swing  it.  What 
do  you  figure  to  do?  " 

Howard  during  his  long  ride  had  considered  his 
problem  from  all  angles,  and  now,  leaning  forward 

243 


Desert  Valley 

eagerly,  told  in  detail  what  he  had  decided.  Engle, 
a  rancher  himself  with  broad  experience,  nodded  now 
and  then,  asked  his  few  pertinent  questions,  made  an 
occasional  suggestion.  Then  he  rose  to  his  feet  and 
put  out  his  hand. 

"  Drop  in  and  see  us  when  you're  in  town  and 
have  the  time,"  he  said  cordially.  "  Mrs.  Engle 
was  speaking  of  you  only  the  other  day.  You'll 
want  to  be  on  your  way  now.  I'll  let  you  have  five 
thousand  on  your  equity  and  let  the  other  fifteen 
hundred  ride  with  it,  making  one  note  for  sixty-five 
hundred.  I  think  that  if  you  work  things  right  and 
hold  down  expenses  and  make  the  sales  and  pur 
chases  and  other  sales  you  have  in  mind,  you'll  get 
away  with  your  deal.  Just  the  same,  my  boy,"  and 
for  an  instant  there  came  into  his  eyes  the  fighting 
look  which  had  been  there  frequently  in  the  day 
when  he  fought  out  his  own  battles,  "  you've  got 
a  man's-sized  job  on  your  hands." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Alan.  And  when,  the  proper 
papers  signed,  he  said  good-by,  his  eyes  brightened 
and  he  said  directly :  "  It's  a  great  thing,  John  Engle, 
to  have  a  man's-sized  man  to  talk  things  over  with." 

From  his  window  Engle  musingly  watched  the  tall 
form  go  out  to  the  horse  at  the  hitching-post  and 
swing  up  into  the  saddle. 

"  Now  what's  happened  between  him  and  John 
Carr?  "  he  asked  himself.  And  without  hesitation 
he  answered  his  own  question :  "  A  girl,  I  suppose. 
Well,  she  ought  to  be  a  real  girl  to  do  that." 

Howard,  riding  joyously  back  toward  Desert 
Valley,  thought  first  of  Helen.  But  not  even  Helen 
could  hold  all  of  his  thoughts  when  at  length  his 

244 


Two  Friends  and  a  Girl 

horse's  hoofs  fell  again  upon  the  rim  of  Desert 
Valley  land.  Upon  the  bordering  hills  of  the 
southern  edge  of  the  valley  he  drew  rein  and  sat, 
lost  in  thought.  He  saw  herds  feeding,  and 
they  were  his  herds  and  he  himself  did  not  know 
their  exact  number.  He  must  know;  the  game  was 
swiftly  becoming  one  where  pawns  count.  He  saw 
a  man  riding;  it  was  his  man,  whom  he  must  direct 
and  pay.  He  saw  water  running  in  one  of  his  larger 
creeks,  and  thought  how  it  too  must  be  made  to  work 
for  him.  Yonder  were  colts  running  wild;  there 
were  more  than  he  required  at  present.  They  must 
be  broken;  they  could  be  sold.  He  looked  across 
empty  acres,  rich  pasture  lands  void  of  grazing 
stock.  A  slow,  thoughtful  frown  gathered  in  his 
eyes;  he  must  somehow  put  stock  into  them,  stock 
to  be  bought  skilfully  and  sold  skilfully.  All  of  this 
glorious  sweep  of  country  stretching  to  the  four  cor 
ners  of  the  compass  was  his,  his  very  own,  if  he  were 
man  enough  to  go  on  with  the  work  to  which  he 
had  somewhat  lightly  set  his  hand.  He  had  loved 
it  always,  since  first  he  had  come  here  as  John  Carr's 
guest.  He  loved  it  now  with  a  mounting  passion. 
It  flashed  over  him  that  when,  at  some  far-distant 
time,  he  should  die  this  was  the  one  spot  upon  God's 
great  earth  where  he  should  want  his  ashes  scattered 
on  the  little  wind  which  came  down  from  the  hills. 
It  was  a  part  of  him  and  he  a  part  of  it.  And  as 
he  loved  it  and  yearned  for  it  utterly,  so  did  Helen 
love  it. 

"  It  is  going  to  be  mine  and  yours,  my  dear."  He 
spoke  aloud,  his  voice  stern  with  his  determination. 
14  For  us  to  have  and  to  hold." 

245 


Desert  Valley 

And  because  of  the  thought  and  the  knowledge 
of  what  lay  ahead  of  him,  he  knew  that  for  the 
present  he  must  forego  that  to  which  he  had  looked 
forward  all  day.  He  must  for  a  little  postpone  a 
ride  to  see  Helen.  For  already  he  foresaw  the  calls 
upon  his  time;  short-handed,  it  was  to  be  work  for 
him  from  long  before  day  until  long  after  dark.  As 
he  started  down  the  hill  into  the  valley  he  saw  a 
herd  of  cattle  coming  from  the  north.  He  had  a 
round-up  on  his  hands  to  begin  with,  and  it  was  al 
ready  beginning. 


246 


CHAPTER  XXI 
ALMOST 

LDNG  hours  and  hard  work  in  the  cattle  country 
mean  that  a  man  slips  from  his  saddle  into 
his  bunk  and  to  sleep,  and  from  his  bunk  into  his 
saddle  again,  with  only  time  to  bolt  his  food  and 
hot  coffee  infrequently  and  at  irregular  intervals. 
Chuck  Evans  had  obeyed  orders;  the  ranch  was 
short-handed  and  the  "  old  timers  "  remaining  cursed 
a  little,  to  be  sure,  at  the  new  order  of  things,  but 
understood  and  went  to  work.  Howard,  when  he 
met  them  all  at  supper  long  after  dark,  noted  how 
their  sunburned  eyes  turned  upon  him  speculatively. 
And  he  knew  that  in  their  own  parlance  every 
mother's  son  of  them  was  ready  to  go  the  limit  if  the 
old  man  set  the  pace.  That  night,  when  the  others 
trooped  off  to  bed,  he  detained  Chuck  Evans  and 
Plug  Oliver  and  Dave  Terril  for  a  brief  conference. 
To  them  he  gave  in  what  detail  he  could  his  latest 
plans.  Also,  since  they  were  friends  as  well  as  hired 
hands,  he  told  them  frankly  of  his  difficulties  and  of 
his  success  with  Engle.  When  the  men  left  him  they 
had  accepted  his  fight  as  their  own. 

The  first  man  in  the  saddle  the  next  day  was 
Howard.  He  ordered  the  tally  taken  of  every  head 
of  stock  on  his  ranch.  This  alone,  since  his  acres 
were  broad  and  since  his  stock  grazed  free  over 
thousands  of  acres  lying  adjacent  to  Desert  Valley 

247 


Desert  Valley 

on  three  sides,  was  a  big  task.  Already,  during  his 
absence,  a  number  of  the  best  of  the  beef  cattle  had 
been  moved  to  the  meadowlands.  He  set  a  man 
to  close-herd  there;  he  sent  other  men  to  bring  in 
still  other  straying  stock;  he  himself  judged  every 
single  head,  cutting  out  those  he  deemed  unfit; 
finally  he  saw  the  growing  herd  driven  down  into 
the  choicest  of  his  meadow  grazing-land  to  fatten. 

All  of  this  required  days.  Between  breakfast  and 
supper  every  man  with  the  outfit  changed  his  horse 
several  times;  Howard,  the  hardest  rider  of  them 
all,  changed  horses  five  times  the  first  day.  He  and 
his  men  showed  signs  of  the  strain  they  put  upon 
their  bodies;  they  were  a  gaunt,  lean-jawed,  wild- 
eyed  lot.  There  was  little  frolic  left  in  them  when 
night  came;  they  were  short-spoken,  prone  to  grow 
fierce  over  trifles.  But  there  was  not  a  sullen  or 
discontented  man  among  them.  They  took  what 
came;  they  had  known  times  of  stress  before;  they 
could  look  forward  to  a  day  to  come  of  boisterous 
relaxation  and  money  to  be  spent  in  town.  Though 
the  subject  had  never  been  mentioned,  they  fully 
understood  that  there  would  be  a  bonus  coming  and 
a  glorious  holiday.  They  would  see  the  old  man 
through  now;  later  he  would  square  the  account. 

Eat,  sleep  and  work;  there  was  nothing  else  in 
their  schedule.  The  times  when  Howard  had  a  few 
moments  over  a  cigarette  to  think  quietly  of  Helen 
were  times  when  he  could  not  go  to  her;  in  the  dim 
ness  of  the  coming  day  when  he  was  going  out  to 
saddle  and  she  would  still  be  asleep;  in  the  dark  of 
the  day  ended  when  she  would  be  going  to  bed.  But 
he  held  grimly  to  his  task  here,  saying  to  himself 

248 


Almost 

that  in  a  few  days  he  would  ride  to  her  and  with 
something  to  say;  wondering  how  she  would  listen; 
sometimes  aglow  with  his  hope,  sometimes  fearing. 
And,  as  he  thought  of  her,  so  did  he  think  often 
of  John  Carr.  He  did  not  know  if  Carr  had  gone 
East  or  if  still  he  were  a  daily  guest  at  the  Long- 
street  home.  Not  a  man  of  his  riders  had  been  be 
yond  the  confines  of  the  grazing-lands ;  no  one  had 
come  in  from  the  outside.  There  was  no  news. 

So  a  full  week  sped  by.  Then  for  the  first  time 
came  both  opportunity  and  excuse  for  Howard  to 
leave  the  ranch.  Chuck  Evans  had  ridden  into  San 
Ramon  to  see  if  there  were  a  market  for  a  string 
of  mules;  he  brought  back  word  that  a  teamster 
named  Roberts  in  the  new  mining-camp  had  been 
making  inquiries.  It  seemed  that  he  wanted  high- 
grade  stock  and  had  the  money  to  pay  for  it.  Every 
thing  was  running  srnoothly  on  the  ranch,  and 
Howard  rode  this  time  on  his  own  errand.  But, 
before  starting  for  Sanchia's  Town,  he  slipped  into 
the  ranch  house  and  shaved  and  changed  to  a  new 
shirt  and  chaps  and  recently  blackened  boots.  There 
after  he  brushed  his  best  black  hat.  Then  from  a 
bottom  drawer  of  his  old  bureau,  where  it  was 
hidden  under  a  pile  of  clothing,  he  brought  out  a 
parcel  which  had  come  with  him  from  a  store  in 
San  Juan. 

As  good  a  way  as  any  to  see  Roberts  in  Sanchia's 
Town  led  by  way  of  the  Longstreet  camp  on  Last 
Ridge.  Howard  took  the  winding  trail  up  which 
his  horse  could  climb  to  the  plateau,  and  once  on 
the  level  land  came  swooping  down  on  the  well- 
remembered  spot  joyously.  The  spot  itself  was 

249 


Desert  Valley 

hidden  from  him  by  the  grove  of  stunted  pines  until 
he  came  within  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  of  it. 
Then  he  jerked  his  horse  down  to  a  standstill  and 
sat  staring  before  him  incredulously.  The  cabin  was 
gone  quite  as  though  there  had  never  been  a  cabin 
there  in  all  time. 

At  first  he  wouldn't  believe  his  eyes.  Then  swiftly 
his  wonderment  altered  to  consternation.  They  had 
gone !  Helen  and  her  father  had  gone.  Carr  had 
prevailed  upon  them;  Howard  had  not  come  to  see; 
by  now  they  were  flying  eastward  upon  the  speeding 
overland  train,  or  perhaps  were  already  in  New 
York. 

The  splendor  of  the  day  died;  the  joyousness 
went  out  of  his  heart;  he  sat  staring  at  the  emptiness 
before  him,  then  at  the  parcel  in  brown  paper 
clutched  so  foolishly  in  his  hand.  He  looked  all 
about  him ;  through  the  trees  as  though  he  expected 
to  see  Helen's  laughing  face  watching  him;  across 
the  broken  ridges  beyond  the  flat;  down  into  his  own 
valley.  Down  there,  too,  the  glory  had  passed. 
When  he  had  stood  here  with  Helen  and  they  two 
had  looked  across  the  valley  lands  together,  it  had 
been  to  him  like  the  promised  land.  Now  it  was 
so  much  dirt  and  rock  and  grass  with  cows  and 
horses  browsing  stupidly  across  all  of  it. 

For  a  long  time  he  sat  very  still.  Then  his  face 
hardened. 

"  If  she  has  gone,  then  I  am  going,  too,"  he  told 
himself.  "  And  I  am  going  to  bring  her  back." 

He  turned  his  horse  and  rode  swiftly  to  Sanchia's 
Town.  They  would  have  gone  that  way,  on  to  Big 
Run,  San  Ramon  and  down  to  the  railroad.  In  such 

250 


Almost 

a  case  he  would  have  word  of  them  in  the  mining- 
camp.  In  his  present  mood  he  required  only  a  few 
minutes  to  come  to  the  new  settlement.  Had  he  been 
less  absorbed  in  his  own  thoughts  he  must  have  been 
amazed  at  what  he  saw  about  him.  He  had  known 
men  before  now  to  make  towns  upon  dry  bare 
ground  and  in  a  mere  handful  of  days;  not  even 
he,  with  his  first-hand  knowledge  of  such  venturings, 
had  ever  seen  the  like  of  Sanchia's  Town.  The 
spirit  which  had  initiated  it  into  the  world  was  still 
its  driving  spirit.  It  sprawled,  it  overflowed  its 
boundaries  incessantly,  it  hooted  and  yelled  and 
sang.  It  grew  like  a  formless  mass  lumped  about 
fermenting  yeast.  Already  there  were  shacks  and 
tents  up  and  down  both  sides  of  Dry  Gulch  and 
strung  along  in  the  gravelly  bed.  There  were 
gambling-houses,  monstrosities  which  named  them 
selves  hotels  and  rooming-houses,  stores,  lunch 
counters.  The  streets  were  crooked  alleys;  every 
where  dust  puffed  up  and  thickened  and  never  set 
tled;  teams  and  jolting  wagons  and  pack  burros  dis 
puted  the  congested  way;  there  were  seasoned 
miners,  old-time  prospectors,  going  their  quiet  ways ; 
there  were  tenderfeet  of  all  descriptions.  Not  less 
than  five  thousand  human  souls  had  already  found 
their  way  to  Sanchia's  Town  and  more  were 
coming. 

In  all  of  this  today  Howard  took  scant  interest. 
His  major  emotion  was  one  of  annoyance.  Among 
such  a  seething  crowd  where  should  he  ask  of  the 
Longstreets?  He  sat  his  horse  in  a  narrow  space 
between  a  lunch  counter  and  a  canvas  barroom  and 
stared  about  him.  Then  he  saw  that  the  solitary 

251 


Desert  Valley 

figure  perched  upon  a  box  before  the  lunch  counter 
was  Yellow  Barbee.    He  called  to  him  quickly. 

Barbee's  young  eyes,  which  he  turned  promptly, 
were  still  eloquent  of  an  amorous  joyousness  within 
Barbee's  young  soul.  He  bestowed  his  glance  only 
fleetingly  upon  Howard,  said  a  brief  u  Hello,  Al," 
and  turned  immediately  to  the  cause  of  the  obvious 
flutter  in  Barbee's  bosom.  Howard  expected  to  see 
Sanchia  Murray  behind  the  counter.  Instead  he  saw 
a  young  girl  of  a  little  less  than  Barbee's  age, 
roguish-eyed,  black-haired,  red-mouthed,  plump  and 
saucy.  Her  sleeves  were  up;  her  arms  were  brown 
and  round;  there  was  flour  on  them. 

"Where  are  the  Longstreets,  Barbee?"  asked 
Howard. 

"  Gone,"  announced  Barbee  cheerfully.  And  as 
though  that  closed  the  matter  to  his  entire  satisfac 
tion,  he  demanded:  "  Come  on,  Pet;  be  a  good  kid. 
Going  with  me,  ain't  you?" 

Pet  laughed  and  thereafter  turned  up  her  pretty 
nose  with  obviously  mock  disdain. 

"  Dancing  old  square  dances  and  polkas,  I'd  bet 
a  stack  of  wheats,"  she  scoffed.  "  Why,  there  ain't 
any  more  real  jazz  in  your  crowd  of  cow  hands  than 
there  is  in  an  old  man's  home.  What  do  you  take 
me  for,  anyway?  " 

"  Aw,  come  on,"  grinned  Barbee.  "  You're  josh 
ing.  If  it's  jazz  you  want — " 

"  Look  here,"  said  Howard  impatiently.  u  I'm 
just  asking  a  question  and  I'll  get  out  of  your  way. 
Where  did  they  go?" 

"Who?"  asked  Barbee. 

"The  Longstreets." 

252 


Almost 

* 

"  Dunno,"  Barbee  shrugged.  Then,  as  an  after 
thought,  "  Sanchia  Murray  could  tell  you;  she's 
been  sticking  tight  to  them.  She's  got  a  tent  up 
yonder,  back  of  the  Courtot  House  on  the  edge  of 


town." 


Howard  hurried  on.  The  lunch  counter  girl,  fol 
lowing  him  with  critical  eyes,  demanded  for  him  or 
anyone  else  to  hear: 

"  Who's  your  bean-pole  friend,  Kid?" 

But  the  answer  Howard  did  not  hear.  He  swung 
out  to  the  side  to  be  free  of  the  town  and  galloped 
on  to  Sanchia's  tent,  which  he  found  readily.  San 
chia  herself  was  in  front  of  it,  just  preparing  to 
saddle  her  white  mare. 

"  Hello,  Al,"  she  greeted  him  carelessly,  though 
her  eyes  narrowed  at  him  speculatively. 

"  Where  have  the  Longstreets  gone?"  he  asked 
without  preliminary. 

"  Back  in  the  hills,  Bear  Valley  way,"  she  replied, 
still  scrutinizing  him.  She  marked  the  look  of 
relief  in  his  eyes  and  laughed  cynically  and  withal 
a  trifle  bitterly.  "On  the  Red  Hill  trail.  Going 
to  see  them?  " 

"  Yes."  He  reined  away,  and  then  added  stiffly, 
"  Thank  you." 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  she  called  to  him.  "  I'm  just 
going  up  there  myself.  You  might  saddle  for  me 
and  I'll  ride  with  you." 

He  paused  and  looked  her  sternly  and  steadily  in 
the  eyes.  His  voice  was  cold  and  his  words  were 
outspoken. 

"  I  had  rather  ride  alone  and  you  know  it.  Fur 
ther,  after  the  way  you  have  tricked  that  man,  I'd 

253 


Desert  Valley 

think  you'd  draw  off  and  leave  them  alone.  You 
can't  do  a  thing  like  that  twice." 

For  an  instant  the  look  in  her  eyes  was  baffling. 
Then  there  shot  through  the  inscrutability  of  it  a 
sudden  gleam  of  malice  that  was  like  a  spurt  of 
flame.  It  was  the  fire  which  before  now  Howard's 
attitude  had  kindled  there. 

"  What  you  men  see  in  that  little  fool,  I  don't 
know !  "  she  cried  hotly.  "  What  has  she  that  I 
haven't?  I  could  have  made  you  the  biggest  man 
in  the  country;  I  would  have  given  everything  and 
held  nothing  back.  I  am  even  honest  enough  to  say 
so,  and  I  am  not  afraid  to  say  so.  And  you  are 
stupid  like  every  other  man.  Oh,  I  am  done  with 
the  crowd  of  you !  "  she  broke  out  violently,  half 
hysterically.  "  Laugh  at  me,  will  you?  Turn  your 
back  on  me,  will  you  ?  "  She  paused  and  panted  out 
the  words.  u  Why,  if  you  came  crawling  to  me  now 
I'd  spit  on  you.  And,  so  help  me  God,  I'll  ruin  the 
last  one  of  you  and  your  precious  flock  of  lambs 
before  I  have  done  with  you.  If  Jim  Courtot  can't 
do  the  trick,  I'll  do  for  you  first  and  Jim  next." 

He  wheeled  his  horse  and  left  her,, groping  won- 
deringly  for  an  explanation  of  her  fury.  He  had  not 
spoken  with  her  above  a  score  of  times  in  his  life. 
He  had  merely  been  decent  to  her  when,  in  the  be 
ginning,  it  struck  him  that  after  all  she  was  only  a 
defenseless  woman  and  that  men  were  hard  on  her. 
That  his  former  simple  kindness  would  have  awak 
ened  any  serious  affection  had  failed  to  suggest  itself 
to  him. 

But  swiftly  he  forgot  Sanchia  and  her  vindictive- 
ness.  She  had  mentioned  Courtot;  for  a  little  as  he 

254 


Almost 

rode  into  the  hills  he  puzzled  over  Courtot's  recur 
rent  disappearances.  He  recalled  how,  always  when 
he  came  to  a  place  where  he  might  expect  to  find  the 
gambler,  he  had  passed  on.  Here  of  late  he  was 
like  some  sinister  will-o'-the-wisp.  What  was  it  that 
urged  him?  A  lure  that  beckoned?  A  menace  that 
drove?  He  thought  of  Kish  Taka.  There  was  a 
nemesis  to  dog  any  man.  Jim  Courtot  had  dwelt 
with  the  desert  Indians;  he  had  come  to  know  in 
what  savage  manner  they  meted  out  their  retributive 
justice.  Was  Kish  Taka  still  unsleeping,  patient, 
relentless  on  Courtot's  trail?  Kish  Taka  and  his 
dog? 

But  his  horse's  hoofs  were  beating  out  a  merry 
music  on  the  winding  trail  that  led  toward  the  Red 
Hill  country,  and  at  the  end  of  the  trail  was  Helen. 
Helen  had  not  gone  East.  The  frown  in  his  eyes 
gave  place  to  his  smile ;  the  sunlight  was  again  golden 
and  glorious;  the  emptiness  of  the  world  was  re 
placed  by  a  large  content. 

"  They  just  couldn't  stand  being  so  close  to  what 
they  had  lost,"  he  argued.  "  It  was  a  right  move 
to  come  up  here." 

He  found  the  new  camp  without  trouble.  As  he 
entered  the  lower  end  of  the  tiny  valley  he  saw  the 
canvas-walled  cabin  at  the  further  end,  under  the 
cliffs.  He  saw  Helen  herself.  She  was  just  stepping 
out  through  the  door.  He  came  racing  on  to  her, 
waving  his  hat  by  way  of  greeting.  He  slipped 
down  from  the  saddle,  let  his  bundle  fall  and  caught 
both  of  her  hands  in  his. 

After  this  long,  unexplained  absence  Helen  had 
meant  to  be  very  stiff  when,  on  some  fine  day,  Alan 


Desert  Valley 

Howard  remembered  to  come  again.  But  now, 
under  his  ardent  eyes,  the  color  ran  up  into  her 
cheeks  in  rebellious  defiance  of  her  often  strength 
ened  determination  and,  though  she  wrenched  her 
self  free  from  him,  something  of  the  fire  in  his  eyes 
was  reflected  in  hers. 

"Good-afternoon,  Mr.  Cyclone,"  she  said  quite 
as  carelessly  as  his  sudden  appearance  permitted  her 
vaguely  disturbed  senses.  "  What  are  you  going 
to  do  ?  Run  over  me  ?  " 

He  laughed  joyously. 

"  I  could  eat  you,"  he  told  her  enthusiastically. 
"  You  look  just  that  good  to  me.  Lord,  but  I'm 
hungry  for  the  sight  of  you !  " 

"  That's  nice  of  you  to  say  so,"  Helen  answered. 
And  now  she  was  quite  all  that  she  had  planned 
to  be ;  as  coolly  indifferent  as  only  a  girl  can  be  when 
something  has  begun  to  sing  in  her  heart  and  she 
has  made  up  her  mind  that  no  one  must  hear  the 
singing.  "  But  I  fail  to  see  why  this  very  excellent 
imitation  of  a  man  who  hasn't  seen  his  best  friend 
for  a  couple  of  centuries." 

"  It  has  been  that  long,  every  bit  of  it — longer." 

Helen's  smile  was  that  stock  smile  to  be  employed 
in  answer  to  an  inconsequential  compliment  paid  by 
a  chance  acquaintance. 

"  Three  or  four  days  is  hardly  an  eternity,"  she 
retorted. 

"  Three  or  four  days?  Why,  it's  been  over  nine ! 
Nearly  ten." 

She  appeared  both  amazed  and  incredulous.  Then 
she  waved  the  matter  aside  as  of  no  moment. 

"  I  was  going  out  to  the  spring  for  a  drink,"  she 
256 


Almost 

said.     "  Will  you  wait  here  ?     Father  will  be  in 


soon." 


"  I'll  come  along,  if  there's  room  for  two."  He 
picked  up  his  parcel,  which  Helen  noted  without 
seeming  to  note  anything.  "  Look  here,  Helen," 
as  she  started  on  before  him  to  the  thicket  of 
willows,  "  aren't  you  the  least  little  bit  glad  to  see 
me?" 

"  Why,  of  course  I  am,"  she  assured  him  politely. 
"And  papa  was  wondering  about  you  only  this 
morning. — Isn't  it  pretty  here  ?  " 

He  admitted  without  enthusiasm  that  it  was.  He 
had  not  seen  anything  but  her.  She  had  on  a  blue 
dress;  she  wore  a  wide  hat;  her  eyes  were  nothing 
less  than  maddening.  He  recalled  the  prettiness  of 
Barbee's  new  girl  at  the  lunch  counter;  he  remem 
bered  Sanchia's  regular  features;  these  two  were 
simply  not  of  the  same  order  of  beings  as  Helen. 
No  woman  was.  He  strode  behind  her  as  she 
flitted  on  up  the  trail  and  felt  thrilling  through  him 
an  odd  commingling  of  reverence,  of  adoration,  of 
infinite  yearning. 

She  came  to  the  spring  and  stopped,  watching  him 
eagerly  though  she  pretended  to  be  looking  any 
where  but  at  him.  And  for  a  moment  Howard, 
marveling  at  the  spot,  let  his  eyes  wander  from  her. 
The  spring  had  been  cleaned  out  and  rimmed  with 
big  flat  rocks.  About  it,  as  though  recently  trans 
planted  here,  were  red  and  blue  flowers.  Just  at 
hand  close  to  the  clear  pool  was  a  delightful  shade 
cast  by  a  freshly  constructed  shelter.  And  the 
shelter  itself  made  him  open  his  eyes.  Willow  poles, 
with  the  leaves  still  green  on  them,  had  been  set  in 

257 


Desert  Valley 

the  soft  earth.  Across  them  other  poles  had  been 
placed,  cunningly  woven  in  and  out.  Still  other 
branches,  criss-crossed  above  and  piled  high  with 
foliage,  offered  a  thick  mat  of  verdure  to  shield  one 
from  the  hot  rays  of  the  sun.  Within  the  elfin 
chamber  was  a  rustic  seat;  everywhere,  their  roots 
enwrapped  in  wet  earth,  were  flowers. 

11  It's  wonderful!  "  he  told  her,  and  now  his  en 
thusiasm  had  been  awakened.  "  And,  of  course,  it's 
your  own  idea  and  your  own  work." 

"  Oh  my,  no !  It  was  John's  idea  and  John 
made  it!  " 

"John?" 

"  John  Carr.  He  has  been  a  perfect  dear.  Isn't 
he  wonderful?" 

Yes,  Carr  was  wonderful.  But  already  Howard's 
enthusiasm  had  fled. 

"  The  leaves  will  wilt  pretty  soon,"  he  found  fault 
in  spite  of  himself.  He  was  a  little  ashamed  even 
while  he  was  speaking.  "  The  flowers  will  die,  and 
then—" 

Helen  was  already  seated  within,  smiling,  looking 
placid  and  unconcerned. 

"  By  then,"  she  announced  lightly,  "  I'll  be  gone; 
so  it  won't  matter." 

"  Gone  ?  "  he  demanded  sharply.     "  Where  ?  " 

"  East.  Mr.  Carr  has  gone  on  ahead.  We  are 
to  meet  him  in  New  York." 

He  sat  down  upon  a  rock  just  outside  her  door 
and  made  no  attempt  to  hide  what  was  in  his  heart. 
He  had  thought  to  have  lost  her  when  he  came  to 
the  spot  whence  the  cabin  had  vanished;  he  had 
found  her  here;  he  was  going  to  lose  her  again — 

258 


Almost 

Helen's  heart  quickened  at  his  look  and  she  lowered 
her  head,  pretending  to  be  occupied  exclusively  with 
a  thistle  that  had  caught  on  her  skirt,  afraid  that 
he  would  know. 

"Why  are  you  going  like  this?"  he  asked  sud 
denly. 

She  appeared  to  hesitate. 

"  I  ought  not  to  say  anything  against  one  of  your 
friends,"  she  said  with  a  great  show  of  ingenuous 
ness.  "  But,  Mrs.  Murray — " 

Explosively  he  cut  her  short.  "  You  know  that 
she  is  not  a  friend  of  mine  and  that  she  has  never 
been  and  never  will  be  a  friend  of  mine.  Why  do 
you  say  that?  " 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  went  on  smiling 
at  him.  That  smile  began  to  madden  him;  it  ap 
peared  to  speak  of  such  an  unruffled  spirit  when  his 
own  was  in  tumult. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  I'm  sure.  I  was  merely 
going  to  say  that  Mrs.  Murray  shows  too  great  an 
interest  in  papa.  Of  course  I  understand  her,  and 
he  doesn't.  Dear  old  pops  is  a  perfect  child.  She 
has  tricked  him  once ;  she  seems  to  think  him  worth 
watching;  she  is  unbearable.  So  I  am  going  to  do 
the  very  natural  thing  and  take  him  away  from  her. 
Back  where  he  belongs,  by  the  way;  where  we  both 
belong." 

"  That  is  not  true ;  you  don't  belong  anywhere  but 
here."  He  began  speaking  slowly,  very  earnestly 
and  with  little  show  of  emotion.  But  little  by  little 
his  speech  quickened,  his  voice  was  raised,  his  words 
became  vehement.  "  You  belong  here.  There  is  no 
land  in  the  world  like  this,  just  as  there  is  no  girl 

259 


Desert  Valley 

lite  you.  Listen  to  me,  Helen !  For  your  sake,  for 
my  sake — yes,  and  for  your  father's  sake — you  must 
stay.  You  were  speaking  of  him;  let's  think  of  him 
first.  He  is  like  a  child  in  that  he  has  kept  a  pure, 
simple  heart.  But  he  is  not  without  his  own  sort  of 
wisdom.  He  knows  rocks  and  strata  and  geological 
formation;  he  found  gold  once,  and  that  was  not 
just  accident.  He  lost,  but  he  lost  without  a 
whimper.  He  is  a  good  sport.  He  will  find  gold 
again  because  it  is  here  and  he  knows  how  to  find 
it  and  where  to  find  it." 

He  paused  and  Helen,  though  with  no  great  show 
of  interest  and  no  slightest  indication  of  being  im 
pressed,  waited  for  him  to  go  on. 

"  The  fault  in  what  has  occurred  is  less  his  than 
mine.  Knowing  the  sort  Sanchia  Murray  is,  I 
should  not  have  given  her  the  opportunity  that  day 
of  a  long  talk  alone  with  him.  But,"  his  mean 
ing  was  plain  as  he  caught  and  held  her  eye,  "  I  was 
in  the  mood  to  forget  Sanchia  Murray  and  Pro 
fessor  Longstreet  and  everyone  else  but  the  girl  I 
was  with." 

Helen  laughed  lightly,  again  passing  a  remark  by 
as  a  mere  compliment  of  the  negligible  order. 

"  Don't  do  that,  Helen,"  he  said  gravely.  She 
saw  that  a  new  sort  of  sternness  had  entered  into  his 
manner.  "  I  have  been  working,  working  hard  not 
alone  for  myself  but  for  you.  Desert  Valley  has 
always  been  to  me  the  one  spot  in  the  world;  you 
saw  it  and  loved  it,  and  since  then  there  is  no  money 
that  would  buy  it  from  me.  If  it  were  really  mine ! 
And  I  have  been  working  night  and  day  to  make 
it  mine.  So  that  some  day- — " 

260 


Almost 

She  was  not  ready  for  this,  and,  though  her  color 
warmed,  she  interrupted  swiftly: 

"  You  speak  as  though  there  were  danger  of  los 
ing  it." 

He  explained,  plunging  into  those  matters  which 
had  absorbed  his  mind  during  so  many  hard  hours, 
telling  her  how  he  had  paid  Carr  twelve  thousand 
and  five  hundred  dollars  when  he  had  expected  to 
pay  only  ten  thousand,  how  he  had  been  obliged  to 
ride  to  San  Juan  for  money,  of  his  success  with 
Engle,  of  his  plans  for  sales,  of  cutting  down  his 
force  of  men;  all  that  he  had  done  and  all  that  he 
hoped  to  do.  She  caught  something  of  the  spirit 
of  the  endeavor  and  leaned  forward  tense  and 
listening. 

"  But  surely  Mr.  Carr,  being  your  best  friend, 
would  not  have  driven  you  like  this !  " 

Howard  did  not  answer  directly.  This  hesita 
tion,  being  unusual  in  him,  caught  Helen's  attention. 

'* 1  imagine  John  needed  the  money,"  he  said 
quietly.  "  I  didn't  say  anything  to  him  about  being 
short  of  cash. — By  the  way,  while  in  San  Juan  I 
got  this  for  you.  I  thought  you'd  like  it." 

He  unwrapped  the  bundle.  In  it  were  a  beautiful 
Spanish  bit,  richly  silvered  and  with  headstall  and 
reins  of  cunningly  plaited  rawhide,  and  a  pair  of 
dainty  spurs  which  winked  gaily  in  the  sunshine. 
Helen's  eyes  sparkled  as  she  put  out  her  hand  for 
them.  Her  rush  of  thanks  he  turned  aside  by  say 
ing  hastily: 

"  I've  got  the  little  horse  to  go  with  them.  I'd 
like  mighty  well  to  give  him  to  you.  I  don't  know 
whether  you  can  accept  yet,  but  I'm  rounding  up  a 

261 


Desert  Valley 

lot  of  horses  and  when  we  get  a  rope  on  Danny  Fm 
going  to  lend  him  to  you.  To  keep  indefinitely,  as 
long  as  you'll  have  him." 

Long  ago  Helen's  fancies  had  been  ensnared  by 
the  big  picturesque  ranch;  long  ago  her  heart  had 
gone  out  to  a  fine  saddle  horse.  No  longer  did  she 
seek  to  hold  her  interest  in  check;  she  asked  him 
quick  questions  about  everything  that  he  had  over 
looked  telling  her  and  exclaimed  with  delighted 
anticipation  when  he  suggested  that  she  and  her 
father  ride  down  and  watch  at  the  round-up.  He'd 
have  Danny  ready  for  her  and  would  have  ridden 
him  enough  to  remind  him  that  his  long  frisky  vaca 
tion  was  at  an  end. 

They  were  very  close  together  and  very  happy 
just  then,  when  a  laughing  voice  broke  in  upon  their 
dreamings. 

"  Isn't  he  the  most  adorable  lover  in  the  world? 
But  look  out  for  him,  my  dear  child.  He  nearly  broke 
my  heart  once.  Hello,  Al.  Sorry  I  couldn't  come 
up  with  you.  But,  you  see,  I  followed  as  close  as 
1  could!" 

They  had  not  heard  Sanchia's  horse,  and  Sanchia 
had  drawn  her  own  deduction  from  the  fact.  Helen 
stiffened  perceptibly,  drawing  slowly  back.  How 
ard's  face  reddened  to  his  anger. 


262 


CHAPTER  XXII 
THE  PROFESSOR  DICTATES 

SANCHIA  was  cool  and  bright  and  merry.  She 
sat  flicking  at  her  gleaming  boot  with  her  whip, 
and  laughing.  Helen,  who  had  stood  very  close  to 
a  great  happiness,  now  shivered  as  though  the  day 
had  turned  cloudy  and  cold.  But  she  was  still 
Helen  Longstreet,  her  pride  an  essential  portion  of 
the  fiber  of  her  being.  Because  she  was  hurt,  be 
cause  suddenly  she  hated  Sanchia  Murray  with 
a  hatred  which  seemed  to  sear  her  heart  like  a 
hot  iron,  she  commanded  her  smile  and  hid  all 
traces  of  agitation  and  spoke  with  serene  indiffer 
ence. 

"  Mr.  Howard  was  telling  me  of  the  work  on 
the  ranch.  Isn't  it  interesting?  " 

"  So  interesting,"  laughed  Sanchia,  "  that  no 
doubt  the  heartless  vagabond  forgot  to  mention  that 
he  had  just  left  me  and  that  I  had  sent  word  by  him 
that  I  was  coming!  " 

"  I  don't  believe  you  did  say  anything  about  it, 
did  you?"  Helen's  level  regard  was  for  Howard 
now;  the  red  of  anger  still  flared  under  his  tan  and 
looked  as  much  like  guilt  as  anything  else.  "  Al 
though,"  and  again  she  glanced  carelessly  toward 
the  trim  form  on  the  white  mare's  back,  "  we  were 
speaking  of  you  only  a  moment  ago." 

If  Sanchia  understood  that  nothing  complimentary 
263 


Desert  Valley 

had  been  spoken  of  her  she  kept  the  knowledge  her 
own. 

"  We  just  had  a  little  visit  together  in  the  mining- 
camp,'*  she  said,  veiling  the  look  she  bestowed  upon 
Howard  so  that  one  might  make  anything  he  pleased 
of  it.  "  Alan  knows  he'd  better  always  run  in  and 
see  me  first  when  he's  been  away  for  ten  days  at 
a  stretch;  don't  you,  Boy?  " 

For  Howard  the  moment  was  nothing  less  than 
a  section  of  purgatory.  He  was  no  fine  hand  to 
deal  with  women;  he  stood  utterly  amazed  at 
Sanchia's  words  and  Sanchia's  attitude.  He  had  not 
learned  the  trick  of  saying  to  a  woman,  "  You  lie." 
He  had  a  confused  sort  of  impression  that  the  two 
girls  were  merely  and  lightly  teasing  him.  But  hav 
ing  eyes  that  were  keen  and  a  brain  which,  though 
a  plain-dealing  man's,  was  quick,  he  understood  that 
somehow  there  was  a  stern  seriousness  under  all  of 
this  seeming  banter.  Single-purposed  he  turned  to 
Helen;  bluntly  he  intended  to  tell  how  he  had  seen 
Sanchia  and  how  he  had  left  her. 

But  Helen's  quick  perception  grasped  his  purpose, 
and  in  an  anger  which  included  him  as  well  as  her 
self  with  Sanchia,  she  wanted  no  explanations.  It 
was  enough  for  her  that  he  had  seen  Sanchia  Murray 
first;  that  he  had  come  direct  from  her.  She  left 
the  new  bridle  and  spurs  lying  on  the  ground,  passed 
swiftly  by  him  and  as  she  walked  on  said  carelessly : 

"  If  you  both  will  excuse  me  a  moment  I  must 
run  into  the  house.  I  have  something  to  do  before 
papa  comes  in." 

Sanchia's  face  glowed  triumphantly,  and  her 
triumph  was  clearly  one  of  sheer  malevolence. 

264 


The  Professor  Dictates 

Howard  lifted  his  face  to  hers,  letting  her  rea'd  his 
blazing  wrath.  She  only  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  I  wish  to  God  you  were  a  man!  "  was  all  that 
he  said. 

"  I  don't,"  she  rejoined  coolly.  "  It's  a  whole  lot 
more  fun  being  a  woman.  Men  are  such  fools." 

She  saw  a  tremor  shake  him  from  head  to  foot. 
He  came  a  quick  step  toward  her,  even  laid  a  tense 
hand  on  her  horse's  mane  as  involuntarily  his  other 
hand  was  lifted;  for  the  instant  a  wild  fear  thrilled 
through  her.  She  thought  that  he  was  going  to  drag 
her  from  the  saddle ;  she  had  driven  him  hard,  per 
haps  too  hard.  But  she  saw  beyond  him  Helen 
hurrying  down  the  trail,  she  saw  even  that  Helen 
was  turning  to  glance  back.  Resourceful  in  a  crisis 
had  Sanchia  Murray  always  been;  resourceful  now. 
She  leaned  forward  and,  for  Helen  to  see,  patted 
the  rigid  hand  on  her  horse's  neck.  She  laughed 
again  as  she  saw  that  Helen  was  almost  running 
now;  she  could  fancy  that  she  had  heard  a  gasp 
catch  in  the  girl's  throat. 

"  You'll  keep  your  hands  off  my  affairs,  Mr.  Alan 
Howard,"  she  said  evenly,  "or  I'll  spoil  every 
dream  of  your  life." 

He  held  back  his  answer,  his  throat  working.  He 
saw  the  forsaken  spurs  and  bridle  near  the  bower 
which  John  Carr  had  constructed;  he  saw  the  sun 
light  and  shadow  across  the  trail  down  which  Helen 
had  vanished.  Then,  his  own  spurs  clanking  to  his 
long  strides,  he  too  went  down  the  trail,  his  back  and 
shoulders  to  Sanchia,  stiff  and  belligerent. 

Helen  was  in  the  cabin,  the  door  closed.  He 
called,  and  she  did  not  answer.  He  could  hear  her 

265 


Desert  Valley 

within,  rummaging  about,  evidently  very  busy  with 
something  or  other;  had  it  not  been  for  the  little 
snatch  of  song  which  came  out  to  him  he  could  have 
thought  that  she  was  in  the  grip  of  a  frenzy  no  less 
than  that  riding  him.  He  rapped  on  the  door  and 
called  again. 

"Is  that  you,  papa?"  Helen's  song  was  sus 
pended  briefly. 

"  No,"  answered  Howard.  "  Won't  you  let  me 
have  a  word  with  you?  " 

"  Pd  love  to,"  she  rejoined.  u  But  I'm  terribly 
busy  just  now.  I'll  be  out  in  a  minute."  And  again 
he  heard  her  humming  and  stirring  about. 

He  tried  to  open  the  door.  It  was  locked.  He 
turned  away  and  sat  down  on  the  doorstep. 

"  I'll  wait  here,"  he  told  her.  "  I'll  wait  all  day 
and  all  night  if  I  have  to." 

But  there  is  nothing  harder  than  an  indefinite 
waiting.  He  saw  that  Sanchia  still  sat  upon  her 
white  mare  where  he  had  left  her,  that  her  head 
was  bent,  and  she  seemed  to  be  in  a  profound  study. 
Now  and  then  he  heard  Helen;  she  appeared  to  be 
rearranging  their  scant  furnishings.  Ten  minutes 
passed.  He  called  softly: 

"  Aren't  you  coming  out,  Helen?  " 

"  Presently."  By  now  Helen  had  commanded 
and  subdued  her  agitation  entirely  to  her  own  satis 
faction.  "  I  know  it  seems  rude,  but  I  simply  must 
get  a  few  things  done." 

"What  sort  of  things?     Can't  I  help  you?" 

"Help?"  She  laughed.  "Men  are  such  funny 
animals  when  it  is  a  matter  of  helping  indoors." 

Sanchia  had  just  said  men  were  such  fools.  Well, 
266 


The  Professor  Dictates 

come  right  down  to  it,  he  was  rather  inclined  to 
accept  the  statement  as  largely  true.  And  women 
were  so  utterly  beyond  comprehension. 

"Anyway,  can't  I  just  come  in  and  watch  you?  " 

He  wondered  why  she  should  seem  so  highly 
amused. 

"  In  this  little  house  you  always  seem  about  seven 
feet  tall,"  she  laughed  at  him.  "  You'd  be  terribly 
in  my  way.  And  you  haven't  waited  half  a  day 
yet,  let  alone  all  night." 

He  saw  that  Sanchia  had  suddenly  lifted  her  head 
and  had  jerked  her  horse  about  in  the  trail.  But 
she  was  not  riding  this  way.  She  had  turned  toward 
the  cliffs  and  was  waving  her  hand.  Then  he  saw 
Longstreet,  grotesque  in  the  various  bits  of  Western 
accoutrement  which  he  had  incorporated  into  his 
wardrobe,  humorously  militant  as  to  swinging  re 
volver,  miner's  pick  in  hand,  high-booted  and  red- 
shirted. 

"  Your  father  is  coming,"  he  offered.  "  That 
Murray  woman  is  going  to  meet  him." 

Helen  had  paused  in  her  activities.  But  he  could 
not  guess  how  her  expression  had  changed.  '*  That 
Murray  woman,"  as  he  spoke  the  words,  did  sound 
convincing.  Still  she  did  not  come  out.  She  knew 
that  it  would  be  a  full  ten  minutes  before  Longstreet 
would  make  his  way  down  the  steep  slope  and  come 
to  the  cabin.  She  resumed  her  occupation  and  re 
membered  to  accompany  it  with  her  tantalizing  bit 
of  song.  Howard  began  to  hate  that  air  whole 
heartedly. 

The  longest  day  has  its  end,  the  longest  ten  min 
utes  fall  something  short  of  an  eternity.  At  length, 

267 


Desert  Valley 

walking  side  by  side,  leading  the  white  mare  and 
chatting  gaily,  Longstreet  and  Sanchia  approached 
the  house.  Longstreet  saw  Howard  and  put  out  a 
friendly  hand. 

"  Glad  to  see  you,  my  boy,"  he  called  warmly. 
"  Helen  and  I  have  talked  of  you  every  day;  weVe 
missed  you  like  the  very  mischief. — Where  is  Helen, 
by  the  way?  " 

41  Inside,"  Howard  told  him  somberly.  "  Chang 
ing  things  around  and  making  them  all  over." 

Helen  opened  the  door.  Howard  wondered  how 
she  had  found  the  time  to  lay  aside  her  hat,  give 
a  new  effect  to  her  hair  and  pin  on  those  field  flowers. 
Her  cheeks  were  only  delicately  flushed,  her  eyes 
were  filled  with  dancing  lights. 

"  Back  again,  pops?"  She  appeared  to  see  only 
her  father,  though  Howard  still  had  a  foot  on  the 
step  and  Sanchia  was  fluttering  close  at  his  elbow. 
"  And  no  new  gold  mine  today !  "  It  was  quite  as 
though  a  gold  mine  were  virtually  an  everyday  oc 
currence.  She  patted  his  dusty  shoulder. 

"  No,"  said  Longstreet  lightly.  "  No  new  mine 
today,  my  dear.  But  I'm  right;  I'm  getting  all  the 
signs  I  want  and  expected.  Tomorrow  or  maybe 
the  next  day,  we'll  have  it.  I  know  right  where  it 
is.  Take  the  trail  by — " 

"  Papa,"  said  Helen  hastily  and  a  trifle  impa 
tiently,  "  can't  you  ever  learn,  even  after  you  have 
been  bitten?  If  you  do  stumble  on  anything  I 
should  think  you  would  remember  and  not  talk 
about  it." 

"  But,  my  dear,"  he  expostulated,  "  we  arc  among 
friends." 

268 


The  Professor  Dictates 

"  Are  we?  "  Helen  demanded  coolly.  "  We  were 
among  the  same  friends  before." 

Longstreet  looked  frankly  displeased,  vaguely  dis 
tressed.  Sanchia  was  listening  eagerly,  her  eyes 
stony  in  their  covetousness.  Howard,  staring  only 
at  Helen,  had  hardly  heard. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Longstreet.  "  I  haven't  found 
anything,  so  that's  all  there  is  to  today's  tale,  any 
way."  He  got  his  first  view  of  the  cabin's  interior. 
"What  in  the  world  has  happened  in  there?"  he 
demanded,  in  amazement. 

"Nothing,"  answered  Helen.  "I'm  just  pack 
ing;  that's  all." 

"  Packing,  my  dear  ?  Packing  what  ?  And,  pray, 
with  what  intention?  " 

"  Packing  everything,  of  course.  And  with  the 
intention  of  traveling." 

Longstreet  looked  perplexed.  He  turned  to  both 
Howard  and  Sanchia  as  though  he  suspected  that 
they  must  share  the  secret. 

"  If  you'll  come  in,  pops,"  Helen  informed  him, 
"  we'll  arrange  for  everything.  I  wanted  to  get  the 
worst  of  it  done  before  you  came,  as  you're  so 
frightfully  upsetting  when  there's  anything  like  this 
to  be  done.  Mr.  Howard  and  Mrs.  Murray,"  she 
added,  explaining  sweetly,  "  just  ran  in  for  a 
minute's  call.  They  are  both  in  a  hurry,  and  we 
had  better  not  detain  them." 

Howard  flushed.  But  his  jaw  muscles  only 
bulged,  and  he  did  not  withdraw  his  foot  from  the 
doorstep.  Sanchia  bestowed  upon  the  girl  a  long 
searching  look;  it  may  have  suggested  itself  to 
Sanchia's  open  mind  at  that  instant  that  Helen  was 

269 


Desert  Valley 

likely  to  prove  a  more  troublesome  factor  than  she 
had  counted  on. 

"  If  you  don't  mind,"  Howard  said  with  slow 
stubbornness,  "I'd  like  just  a  few  words  with  you 
and  Miss  Helen.  Mrs.  Murray  came  alone,  and  no 
doubt  would  prefer  to  return  alone. " 

Sanchia's  eyes  flashed  and  she  bit  her  lip.  Then, 
though  her  words  came  quickly,  they  were  smooth 
and  quiet  and  had  a  note  of  bantering  laughter  in 
them. 

"  Dear  me,  we  must  all  be  tired  and  hungry  like 
a  lot  of  children  who  have  played  too  hard !  We'll 
be  quarreling  in  another  moment.  But  I  am  not 
going  to  be  so  sensitive  as  to  feel  hurt  and  run  off 
and  cry;  we  are  too  good  friends  for  that,  as  you've 
just  said,  Mr.  Longstreet.  And  I  did  so  want  to 
ask  you  some  questions;  I  sent  right  away  for  the 
books  you  told  me  of,  and  I  am  simply  mad  over 
them.  And  I  got  one  of  yours,  too;  the  one  on 
southwestern  desert  formations.  It  is  the  most 
splendid  thing  I  ever  read.  But  i;  is  so  erudite,  so 
technical  in  places.  I  was  going  to  ask  if  you  would 
explain  certain  parts  of  it  to  me?" 

"  Delighted  to,"  ejaculated  Longstreet.  His  old 
beaming  cheeriness  enwrapped  him  like  a  rosy  mist. 
"  Come  in,  come  in.  And  you,  too,  Alan." 

They  entered,  Sanchia  with  a  sidelong  look  at 
Helen,  Howard  grave  and  stubborn.  Everything 
was  in  a  state  of  confusion  which  Sanchia  was  quick 
to  mark  while  Howard  saw  nothing  of  it.  He  saw 
only  Helen  looking  a  far-off  princess,  cold  and  un 
approachable.  And  only  a  few  minutes  ago  she  had 
been  just  a  winsome  girl  who  leaned  toward  him, 

270 


The  Professor  Dictates 

whom  he  dared  to  hope  he  could  gather  up  into 
his  arms. 

Helen's  expression  was  one  of  set  determination. 
She  breathed  quickly  and  deeply.  Her  anger  rose 
that  her  two  guests  had  overridden  her  expressed 
wish.  She  watched  her  father  hand  Sanchia  a  chair. 
She  saw  them  sit  down  together  at  the  table,  Long- 
street  beginning  to  talk  largely  upon  his  hobby, 
Sanchia  encouraging  him  with  her  sympathetic  smile 
and  her  pertinent  questions.  It  appeared  that 
Sanchia  had  really  read  and  understood  and  was 
interested. 

"  Papa,"  said  Helen  quietly,  though  her  voice 
shook  a  little,  "  I  suppose  that  a  time  for  very  plain 
talking  has  come.  We  will  never  get  anywhere 
without  it.  I  have  shown  Mrs.  Murray  as  plainly 
as  I  could  that  I  don't  trust  her  and  further  that 
I  do  not  like  her.  She  should  not  come  into  my 
house.  You  should  not  ask  her,  if  she  has  not 
enough  pride  to  refuse  your  invitation.  Do  you 
want  me  to  go  ?  Or  will  you  ask  her  to  go  ?  " 

Longstreet  had  not  expected  this,  and  for  a  mo 
ment  was  utterly  at  a  loss.  He  looked  at  his 
daughter  in  bewilderment;  he  turned  from  her  to 
Howard  and  finally  to  Sanchia  herself  as  though  for 
help.  His  face  was  puckered  up;  he  looked  ridicu 
lously  as  though  he  were  on  the  verge  of  tears. 
Sanchia  had  the  effrontery  to  pat  his  arm  and 
whisper: 

"  Dear  friend,  that  you  should  be  distressed  be 
cause  of  me." 

But  she  did  not  offer  to  go.  She  sat  still  again 
and  watched  and  waited. 

..  271 


Desert  Valley 

"  I  have  begun  packing  for  both  of  us,"  Helen 
went  on.  "  You  should  come  back  home.  If  you 
refuse  to  go  I  shall  have  to  go  alone." 

To  her  amazement  her  father  appeared  suddenly 
relieved.  He  had  never  been  parted  from  her  for 
forty-eight  hours  consecutively  since  she  could  re 
member;  he  had  never  seemed  competent  to  get 
through  the  day  without  her  countless  ministrations; 
he  had  leaned  on  her  more  than  she  on  him;  and 
yet  the  stupefying  certainty  was  that  now  his  face 
cleared  and  he  actually  smiled  as  he  accepted  her 
threat  as  a  sensible  solution  of  the  problem. 

"  No  doubt  you  are  right,  my  dear,"  he  nodded 
vigorously.  "  This  is  a  wild  sort  of  country  after 
all;  it  is  hard  for  a  girl,  bred  as  you  have  been. 
Perhaps  if  you  went  East  it  would  be  better.  I 
could  stay  here;  I'd  find  my  mine  very  soon;  I'd 
take  someone  in  with  me  in  order  to  raise  a  large 
sum  of  money  immediately.  And  then,  when  I  had 
builded  a  fine  home  and  had  everything  ready  for 
you,  you'd  come  back  to  me !  "  He  was  carried 
away  with  his  dream.  He  rubbed  his  hands  to 
gether,  and  had  he  been  playing  poker  you  wo>uld 
have  known  he  held  nothing  less  than  a  royal  flush. 
"  You  always  rise  superior  to  the  situation,  my 
dear;  always." 

But  Helen's  face  would  have  indicated  that  the 
situation  had  mastered  her.  Her  own  eyes  filled 
with  vexation;  she  dashed  the  tears  aside  and  her 
anger  rose.  Of  all  men  in  the  world  her  father, 
with  his  gentle  innocence,  could  at  times  be  the  most 
maddening.  And,  withdrawn  a  little  behind  her 

272 


The  Professor  Dictates 

father,  she  saw  Sanchia  laughing  into  her  hand 
kerchief. 

On  the  instant  Helen  had  the  clear  vision  to  know 
that  in  this  skirmish  she  was  defeatecl^  She  had 
thought  her  father  would  follow  her;  she  knew  that 
she  would  not  go  without  him.  At  least  not  yet. 
In  a  moment  her  anger  would  get  the  best  of  her; 
she  went  quickly  to  the  door  and  outside.  Howard 
came  quickly  behind  her. 

"  Helen,"  he  said  harshly,  "  youVe  got  to  listen 
to  me." 

"Well?  "  She  whirled  and  confronted  him,  her 
body  drawn  up  rigidly.  "  What  have  you  to  say?  " 

"You  mustn't  leave  like  this.     You  must  stay.1' 

"  I  am  not  going  to  leave,"  she  retorted.  "  I  am 
going  to  stay !  " 

"  But,"  he  began,  at  sea  once  more,  "  I 
thought — " 

;<  Think  what  you  please,  Mr.  Howard,"  she 
told  him  hotly.  "  But  here's  one  thing  you  don't 
have  to  speculate  upon.  I  am  not  going  to  leave 
my  father  in  the  hands  of  that  Murray  woman  to 
do  as  she  pleases  with.  She  can  have  whatever  I 
don't  want,"  and  he  knew  she  meant  Alan  Howard, 
*'  but  I  am  not  going  to  give  her  the  satisfaction  of 
having  all  of  the  mines  and  horses  in  the  world 
named  after  her." 

The  last  came  out  despite  her;  she  could  have 
bitten  her  tongue  to  hold  back  the  words  which  came 
rushing  forth  with  such  vehemence.  She  did  not 
know  what  had  put  that  thought  into  her  mind  at 
this  crisis;  perhaps  it  had  always  been  there.  But 
it  was  this  which  had  chief  significance  for  Howard. 

273 


Desert  Valley 

"  I  have  a  horse  named  Sanchia,"  he  said.  "  The 
one  I  rode  the  first  day  I  saw  you.  You  think  that 
I  named  it  after  her?" 

"What  if  you  did?"  she  demanded.  "  Do  you 
suppose  that  I  care?" 

"  That  horse,"  he  went  on  steadily,  "  I  bought  a 
long  time  ago  from  Yellow  Barbee.  It  was  before 
I  had  so  much  as  heard  of  Sanchia  Murray.  He 
named  the  beast." 

Helen's  old  familiar  sniff  was  his  answer.  The 
matter,  he  was  to  know,  was  of  no  moment  to  her. 
But  she  knew  otherwise,  and  looked  at  him  swiftly, 
hoping  he  had  something  else  to  say. 

"  YouVe  got  to  stay  here,"  he  continued  gravely. 
"  And  we  both  know  it.  I  believe  in  your  father 
and  in  his  ultimate  success.  We  must  watch  over 
him,  we  must  see  that  Mrs.  Murray  does  not  worm 
his  secret  out  of  him  again  and  steal  what  he  finds. 
And  you've  got  to  know  that  when  a  man  loves  a 
girl  as  I  love  you,  he  is  not  going  to  tolerate  any 
further  interference  from  a  lying,  deceitful  jade  like 
that  woman  in  there." 

Helen  laughed  her  disbelief. 

"  I  rode  first  of  all  to  the  place  where  your  cabin 
used  to  stand,"  he  went  on,  his  big  hat  crumpled 
in  his  hands.  "  You  had  left,  and  1  was  afraid 
you  had  gone  East.  I  rode  into  the  mining-camp  to 
get  word  of  you.  I  saw  Barbee ;  he  said  that  Sanchia 
Murray  knew  where  you  had  moved.  I  asked  her. 
When  she  said  she  was  coming  up  this  way,  I  did 
not  wait  for  her.  She  appears  to  have  it  in  for 
me;  she  hates  you  for  standing  between  her  and 
your  father.  She  knows  that  I  love  you,  and — " 

274 


The  Professor  Dictates 

Longstreet  was  calling  from  the  door. 

"  Helen,  I  want  you  and  Howard  to  come  back. 
We  must  talk  everything  over.  Mrs.  Murray  has 
much  to  explain;  she  hates  Jim  Courtot  and  his 
crowd,  she  is  working  against  them  instead  of  with 
them.  Be  fair,  young  people;  remember  these 
words," — he  paused,  lifted  his  hand  oratorically 
and  then  made  his  statement  with  an  unusually  deep 
gravity, — u  Everyone,  though  appearing  guilty,  must 
be  given  an  opportunity  to  prove  himself  innocent. 
That's  it  and  that's  fair:  the  opportunity  to  prove 
his  innocence."  He  emphasized  the  words  in  re 
peating  them.  "  That's  all  that  I  ask  now.  Please 
let's  talk  things  over." 

Helen  returned  slowly  to  the  cabin. 

"  I  must  go  back,"  she  said  to  Howard.  "  After 
all,  I  must  keep  my  head  and  watch  over  papa  every 
minute  while  she  is  with  him." 

"  May  I  come  in,  too?  "  he  asked  gently.  "  Won't 
you  believe  me,  Helen  ?  And  won't  you  let  me  help 
you?" 

She  hesitated.  Then  she  turned  her  head  so  that 
he  could  see  her  eyes. 

"  I  am  apt  to  have  my  hands  full,"  she  admitted. 
She  even  smiled  a  little.  "  Maybe  there  will  be 
work  for  both  of  us." 

But  when  he  sought  to  come  to  her  side,  she  ran 
on  ahead  of  him.  The  face  which  she  presented 
at  the  door  for  Sanchia's  vision  was  radiant.  Even 
Sanchia  was  at  a  loss  for  the  amazing  alteration. 
How  these  two  could  have  come  to  an  understand 
ing  in  two  minutes  baffled  her.  But  as  Howard  pre 
sented  his  own  face  at  the  door  there  was  no 

275 


Desert  Valley 

misdoubting  that  he  and  Helen  had  traveled  far 
along  the  road  which  she  had  thought  to  close  to 
them. 

"What  in  the  world  has  happened?"  Guarded 
as  was  the  tongue  of  Sanchia  Murray  it  was  human 
after  all. 

Helen  laughed  merrily  and  gave  her  eyes  for  an 
instant  to  Howard's.  Then,  lightly,  to  Sanchia: 

"  We  were  just  laughing  over  a  story  Alan  was 
telling  me.  Yellow  Barbee  has  a  new  girl." 

Sanchia  understood,  and  her  face  went  red. 
Howard  merely  knew  that  for  the  first  time  Helen 
had  called  him  Alan.  Of  trifles  is  the  world  made. 


276 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
THE  WILL  O'  THE  WISP 

T7H3R  the  hour,  if  for  no  longer,  the  tables  plainly 
17  were  turned  upon  Sanchia.  The  high  content 
which  so  abruptly  had  enveloped  Helen  and  Howard 
was  comparable  to  the  old  magic  armor  of  the  fairy 
tales  which  the  fortunate  prince  found  always  at  his 
time  of  need.  Through  it  venomed  glance  and  bitter 
tongue  might  not  pass;  as  Sanchia's  anger  rose  the 
two  lovers  looked  into  each  other's  eyes  and  laughed. 
Again  Sanchia  bit  her  lips  and  sat  back. 

"  Dear  old  pops,"  said  Helen,  going  to  her 
father's  side  and  slipping  both  arms  about  his  neck, 
ruffling  his  scant  hair  and  otherwise  making  free 
with  his  passive  person,  thereby  achieving  the  dual 
result  of  coming  between  him  and  Sanchia,  and  giv 
ing  a  joyous  outlet  to  a  new  emotion.  "  I  am  not 
going  to  leave  you,  after  all.  And  the  West  is 
the  nicest  country  in  the  world,  too.  And  Alan 
and  I  were  wrong  to  run  off  and  leave  you  as 
we  did.  We'll  stay  right  with  you  now,  and  it 
will  be  so  much  jollier  that  way;  won't  it,  Mrs. 
Murray?  " 

Longstreet  patted  her  hand;  Sanchia  Murray 
measured  her  anew. 

"  And  I  too,"  ran  on  Helen,  "  must  take  more 
interest  in  your  work,  your  books.  Now  that  we 
live  right  on  the  spot  where  the  things  are,  the  strata 

277 


Desert  Valley 

and  eroded  canons  and — and  relics  of  monster  up 
heavals  and  fossils  of  the  Pliocene  age  and  all  that 
—it  will  be  so  much  fun  to  study  about  them,  all 
together.  Alan  thinks  so,  I'm  sure.  Don't  you 
agree,  Mrs.  Murray?" 

Helen's  eyes  were  dancing,  Longstreet  imagined 
with  newly  inspired  interest,  Alan  knew  with  the 
light  of  battle;  Sanchia's  eyes  were  angry.  The  girl 
had  stated  her  plan  of  campaign  as  though  in  so 
many  words:  If  time  came  when  Longstreet  had  a 
second  golden  secret  to  tell,  she  meant  to  hear  it 
and  to  have  Alan  hear  it  at  least  not  an  instant  later 
than  Mrs.  Murray;  thereafter,  with  odds  two  to 
one  against  the  widow,  they  should  see  what  they 
would  see. 

Sanchia  did  much  thinking  and  little  talking.  She 
remained  an  hour.  During  the  last  half-hour  she 
developed  a  slight  but  growingly  insistent  cough. 
Before  she  left  she  had  drawn  the  desired  query 
from  Longstreet.  Oh,  hadn't  he  noticed  before?  It 
had  been  coming  on  her  for  a  month.  The  doctors 
were  alarmed  for  her — but  she  smiled  bravely. 
They  had  even  commanded  that  she  move  away 
from  the  dust  and  noise  of  a  town;  that  she  pitch 
a  tent  somewhere  on  the  higher  lands  and  live  out 
doors  all  of  the  time.  Helen  saw  what  was  coming 
before  the  actual  words  were  spoken.  It  was  Long- 
street  who  was  finally  led  to  extend  the  invitation: 
Why  didn't  she  move  into  a  tent  near  them?  And 
with  a  look  in  which  gratitude  seemed  blurred  in 
a  mist  of  tears,  Sanchia  accepted.  She  would  move 
tomorrow  and  pitch  her  tent  right  up  there  near  the 
spring. 

278 


The  Will  o'  the  Wisp 

"If  you  don't  mind,  Helen,  dear?"  she  said. 
"  Your  little  summer  house  by  the  spring  may  be 
sacred  ground?  " 

Promptly  Helen  made  her  a  present  of  it.  All 
that  she  wanted  was  some  things  she  had  left  there, 
a  pair  of  spurs  and  a  bridle;  Sanchia  was  perfectly 
welcome  to  the  rest. 

They  all  went  out  together  for  Sanchia's  horse. 
And  Sanchia,  accepting  the  altered  battleground  to 
which  Helen's  tactics  had  driven  her,  seeing  that  she 
was  to  have  little  opportunity  of  getting  Longstreet 
off  to  herself,  began  a  straight  drive  at  her  main 
objective.  She  laid  an  affectionate  hand  on  his  arm 
as  though  thrown  upon  that  necessity  by  the  irregu 
larities  of  the  trail  in  which  she  .had  stumbled,  and 
turned  the  battery  of  her  really  very  pretty  eyes 
upon  him.  With  her  eyes  she  said,  boldly  yet 
timidly:  "  You  'splendid  man,  you  have  touched  my 
heart!  You  noble  creature,  you  have  made  Sanchia 
Murray  love  you!  Generous  man,  you  have  come 
to  mean  everything  to  a  poor  little  woman  who  is 
lonely!" 

It  is  much  to  be  said  in  a  glance,  but  Sanchia  had 
never  traveled  so  far  on  her  chosen  road  of  life  if 
she  had  not  learned,  long  ago,  how  to  put  into  a 
look  all  that  she  did  not  feel.  And  she  did  not  stop 
with  the  one  look;  again  she  appeared  to  stum 
ble,  again  her  eyelids  fluttered  upward,  her  glance 
melted  into  his;  again  she  flashed  sufficient  mes 
sage  to  redden  Longstreet's  cheeks  and  make  his 
own  eyes  burn  with  embarrassment.  And  since 
it  was  obvious  that  henceforward  the  combat  must 
be  waged  in  the  open,  she  did  not  await  the 

279 


Desert  Valley 

unlikely  opportunity  of  some  distant  tete-a-tete  to 
emphasize  her  intention.  Before  she  mounted  she 
managed  to  allow  the  growiingly  embarrassed  man 
to  hold  her  two  hands;  and  she  told  him  whisper- 
ingly : 

"  I  would  to  God  that  you  had  come  a  few 
years  earlier  into  the  life  of  Sanchia  Murray!" 
She  sighed  and  squeezed  his  hands.  Then  she 
smiled  a  wan  little  smile.  "  You  have  come  to 
mean  so  much,  oh,  so  much  in  my  poor  little  lonely 
existence." 

She  mounted  and  rode  away,  waving  her  farewell, 
looking  only  at  Longstreet.  They  all  saw  how,  be 
fore  she  reached  the  bend  in  the  trail,  her  hand 
kerchief  went  to  her  eyes.  Longstreet  appeared 
genuinely  worried. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that  little  woman,"  he  said 
thought  fully. 

"  She's  making  love  at  you,  papa,"  laughed  Helen, 
as  though  the  matter  were  of  no  moment  but  delight 
fully  ridiculous.  'u  Fancy  Sanchia  Murray  falling  in 
love  with  dear  old  pops !  " 

He  looked  at  her  severely. 

"  You  should  not  speak  lightly  of  such  matters, 
my  dear,"  he  chided  her.  "  Mind  you,  I  am  not 
admitting  that  there  is  any  ground  for  such  a  sus 
picion  as  you  express." 

"  But  if  there  were  ground  for  it?" 

"  Is  there  any  reason  why  a  pretty  woman  should 
not  fall  in  love?  "  he  asked  her  stiffly.  "  Further,  is 
your  father  such  a  man  that  no  woman  could  care 
for  him?"  He  stalked  away. 

Helen  gasped  after  him  and  was  speechless. 
280 


The  Will  o'  the  Wisp 

In  due  course  of  time  Howard  recalled  that  there 
was  a  man  named  Roberts,  a  teamster  in  Sanchia's 
Town;  and  that  on  the  Desert  Valley  ranch  there 
were  mules  which  should  be  sold;  and  that,  though 
there  was  a  golden  paradise  here  in  Bear  Valley, 
there  remained  a  workaday  world  outside  the 
charmed  confines  where  time  was  of  the  essence. 
He  made  Helen  understand  that  if  he  were  to  make 
good  in  his  acquisition  of  the  cattle  range1  he  must 
be  down  there  among  his  men  and  his  herds  during 
every  working  hour  of  the  day,  but  that  the  nights 
were  his  own.  He  was  to  come  up  every  night  that 
it  was  possible.  She  was  to  guard  her  father  from 
Sanchia  during  the  days;  he  was  to  seek  to  be  on 
hand  if  ever  the  golden  news  broke  again;  they  two 
were  to  check  the  adventuress'  move.  And  Helen 
was  to  keep  the  spurs  and  bridle;  she  was  to  take 
Danny  not  as  a  loan  but  as  a  gift  of  which  only  they 
were  to  know;  she  was  to  induce  her  father  to  ride 
down  to  the  lower  valley  to  watch  the  round-up. 
Then,  lingeringly  and  with  many  a  backward  look, 
Alan  Howard  went  on  his  way. 

He  found  his  man  and,  while  Howard  sat  side 
ways  in  the  saddle  and  Roberts  whittled  at  a  stick, 
they  drove  their  bargain.  The  mules  were  sold  for 
two  thousand  dollars,  if  they  were  as  Roberts  re 
membered  them  and  as  Howard  represented  them; 
Roberts  would  ride  down  the  next  day  for  them  and 
would  pay  six  hundred  dollars  as  the  first  payment 
and  thereafter  not  less  than  two  hundred  a  month. 
Howard  was  satisfied.  He  would  have  a  little  more 
cash  for  running  expenses  or  for  the  purchase  of 
more  stock  if  he  could  find  another  chance  like  that 

28! 


Desert  Valley 

when  he  had  bought  the  calves  from  Tony  Vaca  in 
French  Valley. 

The  week  rolled  by,  bursting  with  details  requir 
ing  quick  attention.  Danny  was  found,  roped,  sad 
dled  and  bridled.  Longstreet  rode  him,  delighting 
in  the  pony's  high  spirits,  more  delighted  to  see  how 
he  "  came  around."  Gentled  sufficiently  and  re 
minded  that  he  was  no  longer  a  free  agent  to  fling 
up  his  heels  at  the  wind  and  race  recklessly  where 
he  would,  but  that  he  was  man's  friend  and  servant, 
Danny  was  presented  to  Helen.  He  ate  sugar  that 
she  gave  him;  he  returned  bit  by  bit  the  impulsive 
love  which  she  granted  him  outright.  In  his  new 
trappings,  to  which  Howard  had  added  a  saddle 
from  his  own  stables,  Danny  accepted  his  new 
honors  like  a  thoroughbred. 

Helen  rode  him  the  day  she  and  her  father  came 
down  from  the  hills  for  the  round-up.  Longstreet 
out-Romaned  the  Romans;  his  spurs  were  the  big 
gest,  his  yell  when  he  circled  a  herd  was  the  most 
piercing,  his  borrowed  chaps  struck  the  eye  from 
afar;  his  hat  was  a  Stetson  and  amazingly  tall.  Now 
and  then,  when  his  horse  swerved  sharply  to  head 
off  a  racing  steer,  he  came  near  falling;  once  he  did 
fall  and  rolled  wildly  through  the  dust  of  a  corral ; 
but  he  only  continued  his  occupation  with  the  more 
vim  and  was  heard  to  shout  over  and  over:  "It's 
the  life,  boys!  It's  the  life !" 

Helen,  often  riding  at  Howard's  side,  saw  how 
the  herds  were  brought  down  from  the  hills;  how 
they  were  counted  and  graded;  how  the  select  were 
driven  into  the  fattest  pasture  lands.  She  watched 
the  branding  of  those  few  head  that  had  escaped 

282 


The  Will  o'  the  Wisp 

other  round-ups.  At  first  she  cringed  back  as  she 
saw  the  hot  iron  and  the  smoke  rising  from  the  hides 
and  smelled  the  scorching  hair  and  flesh.  But  she 
came  to  understand  the  necessity  and  further  she 
saw  that  little  pain  was  inflicted,  that  the  victims 
though  they  struggled  and  bellowed  were  soon  graz 
ing  quietly  with  their  fellows.  And  at  last  the  time 
had  come  when  she  had  learned  to  ride.  That  was 
the  supreme  joy  of  the  moment. 

To  Howard,  no  less,  was  it  a  joy.  He  watched 
her  race,  with  whip  whirling  over  her  head,  to  cut 
off  the  lunging  attempt  at  escape  made  over  and 
over  by  the  wilder  cattle;  he  saw  that  with  every 
hour  her  seat  in  the  saddle  became  more  secure;  he 
read  that  she  was  not  afraid.  He  looked  forward 
to  long  rides,  just  the  two  of  them,  across  the  bil 
lowing  sweep  of  Desert  Valley,  in  the  golden  time 
when  the  title  rested  secure  with  them,  in  the  time 
when  at  last  all  dreams  came  true. 

Of  any  world  outside  their  own  happy  valley  they 
knew  little.  Sanchia  had  pitched  her  tent  near  the 
Longstreet  camp,  but  these  days  she  was  left  very 
much  to  herself.  They  did  not  pass  through  San- 
chia's  Town  on  their  way  back  and  forth  and  knew 
and  cared  nothing  of  its  activities.  The  Long- 
streets,  keenly  interested  in  all  that  went  forward 
on  the  ranch  were  persuaded  to  accept  Howard's 
hospitality  for  three  days  and  nights.  They  rode 
early  and  late;  there  were  the  brief  before-bedtime 
talks  together;  Helen  saw  the  bluebird  feather  and 
laughed  about  it;  she  claimed  it,  but  was  in  the 
end  after  a  deal  of  bantering  argument  content  to 
leave  it  where  it  was.  She  allowed  Howlard  to 

283 


Desert  Valley 

talk  what  she  branded  as  foolishness  about  certain 
alterations  in  the  old  house  which  he  prophesied 
would  be  necessary  before  long;  she  grew  into  the 
custom  of  speaking  of  the  room  which  she  had  occu 
pied  on  her  first  visit  to  the  ranch  as  "  my  room." 
She  was  very  happy  and  forgot  that  her  father  was 
a  troublesome  childlike  parent  who  fancied  that  he 
knew  how  to  discover  gold  mines.  What  did  mere 
gold  amount  to,  anyway? 

Then  came  the  drive.  The  pick  of  the  herd  were 
to  be  moved  slowly  down  to  San  Juan.  Howard 
had  communicated  with  his  former  buyers,  and  they 
were  eager  for  more  of  his  stock  and  at  the  former 
price.  He  wanted  Helen  and  her  father  to  come 
with  them.  But  Longstreet  shook  his  head  smilingly. 

"  I'm  two-thirds  cowboy  now/'  he  chuckled.  "  A 
few  more  days  of  this  and  I'll  be  coming  to  you 
and  asking  for  a  job!  It  won't  do,  my  boy.  It 
won't  do.  Especially  at  a  time  like  this.  You  make 
your  drive  and  I'll  make  mine.  And  I'll  bet  you  a 
new  twenty-dollar  hat  that  when  you  get  back  I'll 
have  found  gold  again." 

So  the  Longstreets  w*ent  back  to  Bear  Valley,  and 
the  drive  began.  Howard  started  his  cattle  moving 
at  three  o'clock  the  next  morning.  And  almost  from 
the  beginning,  although  everything  started  auspi 
ciously,  he  encountered  hardship.  At  ten  o'clock 
that  morning  he  came  upon  a  dead  calf,  its  throat 
torn  out  as  though  by  a  ravening  monster  wolf;  a 
section  of  the  flesh  seemed  to  have  been  removed  by 
a  sharp  knife.  That  was  nothing;  to  him  it  merely 
spelled  Kish  Taka  and  Kish  Taka  was  his  friend 
and  welcome.  But  as  he  rode  on,  reflecting,  he  read 

284 


The  Will  o'  the  Wisp 

more  in  the  omen.  If  Kish  Taka  were  here  in  the 
hills,  then  somewhere  nearby  Jim  Courtot  had 
passed.  Then  shortly  after  noon  he  came  upon  what 
he  knew  must  be  the  work  of  Jim  Courtot.  And 
he  surmised  with  rising  anger  that  recently  Courtot 
had  seen  Sanchia  and  that  again  Courtot  was  San- 
chia's  right  hand.  Here  was  a  little  hollow;  on  two 
sides  were  steep  banks.  Along  these  banks  lay  four 
big  steers,  dead,  a  rifle  bullet  through  each  one. 
Already  the  buzzards  were  gathering. 

Dave  Terril  came  upon  him  and  found  him  bend 
ing  over  one  of  the  big  stiffening  bodies.  Howard's 
face  was  white,  the  deadly  hue  of  rage. 

"Who  done  that  for  you,  Al?"  muttered  Dave 
wonderingly. 

"Jim  Courtot!" 

"  Why  don't  you  go  get  him,  Al?  " 

"  Why  don't  I?  "  said  Howard  dully. 

Why  did  he  not  lay  a  fierce  hand  upon  the  wind 
that  danced  over  the  hills?  It  was  no  more  elusive 
than  Jim  Courtot.  Why  did  not  Kish  Taka,  the 
eternally  vigilant,  come  up  with  his  prey?  Nowhere 
in  the  world  is  there  so  baffling  a  quarry  as  a 
hunted  man.  Jim  Courtot  struck  and  vanished;  he 
played  the  waiting  game;  he  would  give  his  right 
hand  for  Howard's  death,  his  left  hand  for  the  In 
dian's.  But  in  his  heart,  his  visions  his  own,  he  was 
afraid. 

Before  they  came  to  Sunderberg's  Meadows, 
where  it  had  been  arranged  that  the  herd 'was  to 
pasture  that  night,  they  saw  the  wide-flung  grey  films 
of  smoke.  Accident  or  hatred  had  fired  the  dry 
grass;  flames  danced  and  sang  their  thin  songs  of 

285 


Desert  Valley 

burning  destruction;  the  wide  fields  were  already 
black.  Howard  had  bought  and  paid  for  the  pas 
ture  land;  the  loss  was  his,  not  Sunderberg's; 
Courtot,  if  Courtot  it  was,  or  perhaps  Monte  De- 
vine  or  Ed  True,  had  been  before  him.  Sanchia's 
venom — for,  be  the  hand  of  the  agent  whose  it  may, 
he  recalled  always  the  look  in  Sanchia's  eyes  and 
the  threat  from  Sanchia's  lips — seemed  to  travel 
with  him  and  in  front  of  him.  His  cattle  browsed 
that  night  on  a  rocky,  almost  grassless  ground,  mak 
ing  the  best  of  what  poor  shrub  growths  they  could 
lay  their  dry  tongues  to.  There  was  no  water;  the 
pools  lay  in  the  heart  of  a  smouldering  tract  too  hot 
to  drive  across. 

When  the  cattle  had  rested,  without  waiting  for 
full  day  Howard  was  forced  to  start  them  on  and 
to  make  a  wide  swerve  out  of  his  intended  direction 
to  come  soon  to  feed  and  water.  Otherwise  the 
drive  would  become  a  tremendous  misfortune  and 
loss.  His  cattle  would  lose  weight  rapidly  under  pri 
vation;  they  would  when  delivered  in  San  Juan  only 
vaguely  resemble  the  choice  herd  he  had  promised; 
scrawny  and  jaded,  under-weight  and  wretched,  their 
price  would  drop  from  the  top  to  the  bottom  of  the 
scale.  He  would  make  for  the  Sam  Doran  place; 
Doran,  though  no  friend,  would  at  least  sell  him  hay; 
the  figure  would  be  high,  since  Doran,  no  man  bet 
ter,  knew  when  the  other  man  was  down  and  in  a 
ditch.  But  water  and  food  must  be  had. 

Howard,  toward  noon,  rode  ahead  to  Doran's 
house.  Doran  was  out  in  front  of  his  barn,  break 
ing  a  team  of  colts,  working  one  at  the  time  with 
a  steady  old  mare,  and  in  a  hot  and  unpleasant 

286 


The  Will  o'  the  Wisp 

mood.     He  saw  Howard  and  behind  him  the  dust 
clouds  of  an  advancing  herd. 

"  Got  any  hay?  "  demanded  Howard. 

"  Two  barns  full,"  said  Doran. 

"  Sell  me  enough  to  take  care  of  my  cows?  Sun- 
derberg's  pastures  were  burned  out;  I'm  up  against 
it  for  feed." 

"  Can't,"  said  Doran.  "  Guess  I'm  sold  out  al 
ready  for  all  I  can  let  go." 

Howard  wondered  who  was  buying  up  hay  at  this 
time  and  by  the  big  barnful. 

"  A  fellow  came  by  here  yesterday,"  explained 
Doran,  "  and  took  an  option  on  my  whole  lot."  His 
shrewd  eyes  gleamed.  "  And  at  my  own  figure,  too ! 
Which  was  four  dollars  the  ton  higher'n  the  mar 
ket!  That's  going  a  few,  ain't  it?  " 

;<  Who  was  the  man?"  asked  Howard. 

"  Fellow  named  Devine.     Know  him  ?  " 

Howard  pondered  swiftly.     Then  he  demanded: 

"  Just  an  option  ?  Mind  saying  how  much  cash 
you  got,  Doran?  " 

"  Why,  no.  He  said  he  was  short  of  cash,  but 
he  slipped  me  twenty  bucks  to  tie  the  option.  I'm 
expecting  him  back  tomorrow  or  next  day  to  close 
the  deal." 

Howard  sought  swiftly  to  explain  what  Devine's 
play  was;  it  was  his  suspicion  that  the  twenty  dol 
lars  would  be  forfeited  and  that  Doran's  hay  would 
remain  in  his  barns  a  thousand  years  if  he  waited 
for  Devine  to  come  back  for  it.  But  Doran,  though 
he  seemed  to  reflect,  was  stubborn.  He  hadn't  a 
bale  to  sell,  and  that  was  all  there  was  of  it  He 
even  grinned  behind  Howard's  departing  back. 

287 


Desert  Valley 

The  drive  continued.  Slowly  the  panting  brutes 
were  urged  on;  at  every  water-hole  and  every  trail- 
side  pasture  they  were  rested.  In  the  afternoon 
Howard  found  a  rancher  who  could  spare  half  a 
dozen  bales  of  hay;  they  were  promptly  purchased, 
opened  and  thrown  to  the  herd;  to  disappear  in 
stantly.  That  night  camp  was  made  on  the  upper 
courses  of  the  Morales  Creek.  It  was  less  than  sat 
isfactory;  it  was  better  than  nothing. 

Thus  the  journey  into  San  Juan  required  twice  the 
time  Howard  had  counted  upon.  And  when  at  last 
he  and  his  men  urged  his  lagging  cattle  to  the  fringes 
of  the  village,  he  knew  that  the  herd  was  in  no  con 
dition  for  an  immediate  delivery.  He  rode  ahead 
and  saw  Engle  at  the  bank;  from  Engle  he  rented 
the  best  pasture  to  be  had  at  hand  and  bought  hay; 
then,  impatient  at  the  enforced  delay,  he  pitched 
camp  and  strove  in  a  week  to  bring  back  his  stock 
to  something  of  its  former  condition; 

Alone,  he  rode  that  night  into  San  Juan,  his  eyes 
showing  the  rage  which  day  after  day  had  grown 
in  his  heart.  His  revolver  loose  in  its  holster  he 
visited  first  the  Casa  Blanca,  Crook  Galloway's  old 
place  of  sinister  reputation.  Some  day  he  must  meet 
Jim  Courtot;  might  not  that  time  have  arrived? 
God  knew  he  had  waited  long  enough.  But  Jim 
Courtot  was  not  to  be  found  here ;  nor  anywhere  in 
San  Juan,  though  Howard  sought  him  out  every 
where.  No,  men  told  him;  they  had  not  laid  eyes 
upon  Courtot  since  Howard  had  last  sought  him 
here. 

Finally  the  delivery  was  made  at  the  local  stock 
pens;  the  cattle,  crowded  through  the  narrow  defile, 

288 


The  Will  o'  the  Wisp 

were  counted  and  weighed  and  paid  for.  The  pur 
chasing  agent  looked  at  Howard  curiously. 

"  You  had  higher  grade  stuff  last  time,"  he  said. 
"  This  bunch  isn't  in  the  same  class  with  the  other 
shipment." 

"  Don't  I  know  it?  "  Howard  flared  out  at  him, 
grown  irritable  here  of  late. 

He  took  his  check,  banked  it  and  left  town,  ad 
vancing  his  men  a  little  money  and  telling  them  to 
cut  their  holiday  short.  Then  he  saddled  his  best 
horse  and  headed  back  for  Desert  Valley  the  short 
est  way.  His  expenses  had  been  far  heavier  than 
they  should  have  been;  his  receipts  lower.  He  knew 
what  look  he  would  see  in  Sanchia's  eyes  when  again 
they  met;  he  prayed  that  the  time  might  come  when 
he  could  come  close  enough  to  Jim  Courtot  to  read 
and  answer  his  look.  He  thought  of  Kish  Taka, 
and  for  the  first  time  with  anger;  Kfsh  Taka  should 
keep  his  hands  off. 


289 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
THE  SHADOW 

^  INHERE  was  something  awaiting  Alan  Howard 
JL  at  his  ranch  house  that  for  a  little  at  least 
made  him  forget  Sanchia  and  Courtot  and  hard 
climbs  ahead  in  the  road  he  must  travel.  Tired  as 
he  was  and  dispirited  when  he  got  home  late  that 
night  he  went  to  bed  glowing  with  content.  At 
dawn  he  was  in  the  saddle.  The  Longstreets,  early 
risers  as  they  had  grown  to  be,  had  only  finished 
breakfast  when  he  came  racing  into  Bear  Valley, 
waving  his  hat  to  them  and  calling  cheerily.  A  first 
frown  came  when  he  saw  that  Sanchia  Murray  was 
breakfasting  with  them,  but  the  frown  did  not  linger. 

"  Good-morning,  everybody,"  he  greeted  them. 
Helen,  sitting  in  the  sun  on  the  doorstep,  got  to  her 
feet;  her  father  came  smiling  out  to  shake  hands; 
even  Sanchia,  pushing  her  plate  back,  rose.  She 
looked  at  him  searchingly,  appearing  to  note  and 
wonder  at  his  gay  mood. 

"  No,  I  won't  light  down  and  have  coffee  with 
you,"  he  laughed  at  the  invitation.  "  And  I  won't 
stop  to  eat,  having  devoured  a  day's  rations  before 
I  hit  the  saddle.  No,  there's  nothing  you  can  do 
for  me,  Mr.  Longstreet;  there's  nothing  in  the  world 
I  want."  Helen  had  given  him  her  hand;  he  held 
it  a  little  before  he  would  let  it  free  and  looked 
straight  down  into  her  eyes  and  kept  on  laughing 

290 


The  Shadow 

gaily  as  he  declared  with  certain  unmistakable  bold 
ness:  "  Right  now  I've  got  every  blessed  thing  in 
the  wide  world  I  want." 

Sanchia  said  sharply:  "You  must  have  been  un 
usually  successful  in  your  latest  deal?  " 

"  It's  the  next  deal  I'm  thinking  of,"  he  told  her 
lightly,  letting  her  have  the  words  to  ponder  on  if 
she  liked.  But  he  had  scant  time  for  Sanchia  and 
his  eyes  came  back  to  Helen.  "  I've  got  to  ride  into 
the  new  camp  to  see  Roberts,"  he  told  her.  "  He's 
seen  my  mules  and  is  buying.  How  would  an  early 
ride  suit  you?  And  I'll  show  you  how  easy  it  is 
to  collect  six  hundred  dollars  before  most  folks  have 
had  breakfast!  " 

"  My,  what  a  lot  of  money,"  laughed  Helen. 
"  Of  course  I'll  come.  You  know  where  I  keep 
Danny.  If  you'll  saddle  for  me  I'll  get  ready  and 
be  out  in  two  minutes." 

When  they  rode  away  down  the  trail  together, 
Longstreet  was  smiling,  and  Sanchia  frowning  after 
them. 

"  She  even  eats  with  you?  "  queried  Howard. 

"  I  just  thank  Heaven  she  hasn't  brought  her  bed 
in  yet,"  answered  Helen.  "  She  is  as  transparent 
as  a  piece  of  glass,  and  yet  dear  old  pops  lets  her 
pile  the  wool  over  his  eyes  as  thick  as  she  pleases. 
I'm  just  giving  her  plenty  of  rope,"  she  added 
philosophically.  "  Do  that,  and  people  always  get 
tangled  up  first  and  then  hang  themselves  next,  don't 
they?" 

"  Give  me  plenty  of  rope !  "  he  said  eagerly.  "  I'll 
just  tie  myself  up,  hand  and  foot,  and  give  you  the 
end  of  the  rope  to  hold." 

291 


Desert  Valley 

She  laughed  at  him,  touched  Danny  with  her  new 
spurs  and  shot  ahead. 

'  You're  nearly  dying  to  tell  me  some  good 
n.ews,"  she  said  when  he  had  come  up  with  her  again. 
"  Aren't  you?" 

"  I  want  to  show  you  a  letter  I  got  when  I  came 
in  last  night.  But  I'd  just  as  soon  think  of  handing 
it  over  to  a  whirlwind  as  to  you  at  the  rate  you  are 
going." 

They  drew  their  horses  down  to  a  walk.  From 
his  pocket  Howard  took  an  envelope;  from  the  en 
velope  brought  forth  a  long  blue  slip  of  paper,  torn 
in  two,  and  with  a  few  words  penned  across  the  frag 
ments  in  a  big  running  scrawl.  He  held  the  two 
pieces  together  for  her  to  read;  by  now  the  horses 
had  stopped  and,  being  old  friends,  were  rubbing 
noses.  Helen  read: 

"  Dear  old  Al :  It  took  me  a  few  days  to  see 
straight.  Instead  of  blocking  your  game,  let  me 
help  whenever  I  can.  Don't  need  this  now;  won't 
have  it.  Take  your  time,  Al.  Good  luck  and  so 
long.  John." 

"  Turn  it  over !  "  cried  Howard. 

Helen  obeyed,  only  then  fully  understanding.  It 
was  a  check  for  twelve  thousand  five  hundred  dol 
lars  signed  by  Alan  Howard  and  payable  to  the 
order  of  John  Carr.  Again  she  looked  at  the  brief 
note;  it  was  dated,  and  the  date  was  eight  days  old. 
Her  face  flushed  suddenly;  the  color  deepened. 

"  He  wrote  that  the  day  after  I  sent  my  telegram 
to  him !  "  she  cried  breathlessly. 

292 


The  Shadow 

"Telegram?" 

"Yes."  She  hesitated,  then  ran  on  swiftly: 
"  When  Mr.  Carr  left  I  let  him  think  that  maybe 
father  and  I  would  follow  soon.  I  don't  know  that 
I  had  been  exactly  what  you  men  call  square  with 
Mr.  Carr.  I  wanted  to  be  square  with  everyone. 
So  I  sent  him  a  telegram,  saying  that  we  appreciated 
his  generosity  but  that  we  would  stay  here." 

Howard  studied  the  date  on  the  fluttering  paper 
and  his  mind  ran  back. 

"  You  sent  that  wire  the  day  aft&r  I  came  back 
last  time !  " 

"  And  if  I  did?  "    She  met  his  look  serenely. 

"  You  did  so  because  you  cared — " 

But  Helen  laughed  at  him,  and  again  Danny, 
touched  with  a  sudden  spur,  shot  ahead  down  the 
trail. 

They  clattered  like  runaway  children  into  the 
crooked  rocky  street  of  Sanchia's  Town.  Had  their 
thoughts  been  less  busied  with  themselves  and  with 
a  hint  of  a  rosy  future  and  with  the  bigness  of  the 
thing  which  John  Carr  had  done  for  them,  they 
would  have  marked  long  ago  that  here  something 
was  amiss.  But  it  was  only  when  they  were  fairly 
in  the  heart  of  the  settlement  that  they  stopped 
abruptly  to  stare  at  each  other.  Now  there  was  no 
misunderstanding  what  had  happened:  Sanchia's 
Town,  that  had  been  a  busy,  humming  human  hive 
no  longer  ago  than  yesterday  was  this  morning  still, 
deserted,  empty  and  dead.  Those  who  had  rushed 
hitherward  seeking  gold  were  gone ;  be  the  explana 
tion  where  it  might,  shacks  stood  with  doors  flung 
wide;  tents  had  been  torn  down,  outworn  articles 

293 


Desert  Valley 

discarded,  dumped  helter-skelter  into  the  road.  The 
atmosphere  was  like  that  of  a  circus  grounds  when 
the  circus  was  moving  on,  only  a  few  things  left 
for  the  last  crew  to  come  for. 

"  It  feels  like  a  graveyard,"  whispered  Helen. 
"What  has  happened?" 

"  The  old  story,  I  suppose."  He  turned  side 
ways  in  the  saddle,  looking  about  him  for  a  sign  of 
remaining  life.  "It  grew  in  the  night;  somehow 
it  has  pinched  out;  the  bottom  has  dropped  out  of 
it.  Nate  Kemble  of  Quigley  bought  up  two  or  three 
claims;  I've  a  notion  the  rest  were  worthless.  Any 
way,  like  many  another  of  its  kind,  Sanchia's  Town 
was  born,  has  lived  and  died  like  old  Solomon 
Gundy." 

Helen's  face  was  that  of  one  in  deep  study. 

"  Papa  was  saying  only  day  before  yesterday," 
she  said  thoughtfully,  "  that  this  was  going  to  hap 
pen.  He  said  that  was  why  he  hadn't  taken  the 
trouble  to  make  a  fight  for  his  rights  here.  He  said 
that  Kemble  had  bought  up  all  of  the  land  that  was 
worth  anything;  and  that  he,  himself,  had  given 
Kemble  the  right  tip.  It  begins  to  look  as  though 
papa  knew,  doesn't  it?  " 

Howard  nodded  vigorously. 

"  He  knows  gold  mines  and  he  knows  gold  signs," 
he  said  positively.  "  I've  felt  that  all  along. 
But—" 

"  But,"  she  took  the  words  out  of  his  mouth, 
speaking  hastily,  "  he  doesn't  know  the  first  thing 
about  people;  about  a  woman  like  Sanchia  Murray. 
And  now  that  he  says  he  is  going  to  locate  his  real 
mine  and  we  are  leaving  him  with 

294 


The  Shadow 

"We  mustn't  be  away  too  long/'  he  agreed. 
"  Look.  There's  someone  down  there  at  the  lunch 
counter;  at  least  there's  a  little  smoke  from  the 
stovepipe.  Shall  we  see  who  it  is?" 

It  was  love  among  the  ruins.  Or,  in  other  words, 
Yellow  Barbee  leaning  halfway  across  the  lunch 
counter,  toward  the  roguish-eyed,  plump  maid  who 
leaned  slowly  toward  him. 

"  Hello,  Barbee,"  called  Alan.  And  when  Bar- 
bee  greeted  him  without  enthusiasm,  he  asked: 
"What's  happened  to  the  town?" 

"  Hit  the  slide,"  said  Barbee  carelessly.  "  Bot 
tom  fell  through  I  guess,  and  at  the  same  time  some 
body  started  a  scare  about  gold  being  found  down 
toward  Big  Run.  The  fools,"  he  scoffed,  "  piled  out 
like  crazy  sheep.  You  can  find  the  way  they  went 
by  a  trail  of  old  tin  cups  and  socks  and  such  stuff 
dropped  on  the  run." 

"  Roberts,  the  teamster,  has  gone,  I  suppose?  " 

"  He'll  be  back.  Pet's  old  man  is  still  packing  his 
stuff  and  Roberts  is  going  to  haul  it  this  afternoon. 
I'm  sticking  along,  helping  pack,"  he  grinned.  Pet 
eyed  him  in  high  mock  scorn. 

"  A  lot  of  help  you  are,"  she  told  him.  Barbee 
laughed. 

Howard  and  Helen  were  reining  their  horses 
about  to  leave  when  Barbee  came  out  into  the  road 
and  put  a  detaining  hand  upon  Howard's  horse's 
mane. 

"  Saw  Jim  Courtot  last  night,  Al,"  he  said 
quietly. 

"Here?"  asked  Howard  quickly.  So  long  had 
Courtot  seemed  the  embodiment  of  all  that  was  elu- 

295 


Desert  Valley 

sive  that  it  came  with  something  of  a  shock  of  sur 
prise  that  any  man  had  seen  him. 

"  Yes,"  Barbee  nodded.  "  He's  trailing  his  luck 
with  that  Murray  woman  again.  They're  a  bad 
outfit,  Al;  better  keep  your  eye  peeled." 

Howard  did  not  smile  at  Barbee's  reference  to 
Sanchia.  He  hardly  remarked  it. 

*  Tell  me  about  Courtot,"  he  commanded. 

"  Something's  come  over  him,"  said  Barbee 
vaguely.  "He's  different  somehow,  Al;  and  I 
can't  just  get  him.  If  he  ain't  half  crazy  he  ain't 
much  more  than  half  right.  He's  got  a  funny  look 
in  his  eyes;  he's  as  nervous  as  a  cat;  he  jumps  side 
ways  if  you  move  quick.  Last  night  I  thought  he 
was  going  to  break  and  run  for  cover  at  a  little 
sound  no  man  would  pay  any  attention  to." 

'  What  kind  of  a  sound?" 

"  Just  a  fool  dog  barking! — Well,  so  long,  Al.  I 
got  to  help  Pet  do  her  packing."  And  winking  his 
merry  eye,  Barbee  turned  back  toward  the  lunch 
counter. 

Howard  and  Helen  rode  again  toward  the  hills. 
Across  the  girl's  face  a  shadow  had  fallen.  How 
ard  wondered  if  it  were  there  because  the  odd 
sadness  of  a  forsaken  town  had  tinged  her  spirit 
with  its  own  weird  melancholy;  or  if  she  had  been 
disturbed  by  word  of  Jim  Courtot.  Barbee  had 
spoken  quietly,  but  Helen  might  have  heard.  They 
rode  in  silence  until  Sanchia's  Town  was  lost  be 
hind  a  ridge.  Then  Helen  asked  steadily: 

"  Is  there  no  way  out  for  you  and  Jim  Courtot 
but  the  way  of  violence?  " 

He  sought  to  evade,  saying  lightly  that  it  began 
296 


The  Shadow 

to  look  as  though  he  and  Courtot  could  no  more 
meet  than  could  spring  and  autumn.  But  when  she 
asked  directly,  "  What  would  happen  if  you  did 
meet?"  he  answered  bluntly.  His  mood  was  not 
quarrelsome  this  morning;  he  wanted  no  needless 
fight  with  any  man.  But  if  Jim  Courtot  stepped  out 
into  his  trail  and  began  shooting —  Well,  he  left 
it  to  her,  what  would  happen?  Then  he  began  to 
speak  of  Barbee  and  his  new  girl,  of  anything  that 
offered  itself  to  his  mind  as  a  lighter  topic.  But 
Helen  was  in  no  responsive  mood.  It  seemed  to 
her  that  a  shadow  had  crept  across  the  sky;  that 
the  warmth  had  gone  out  of  the  sunlight.  A  fear 
crept  into  her  heart,  and  like  many  a  baseless  emo 
tion  grew  into  certainty,  that  if  Alan  Howard  and 
Jim  Courtot  came  face  to  face  it  would  be  Alan  who 
fell.  When  she  saw  how  straight  and  virile  Howard 
sat  in  the  saddle;  when  she  marked  how  full  of 
life  and  the  sheer  joy  of  life  he  was;  when  she  read 
in  his  eyes  something  of  his  own  dreams  for  the 
future;  when  then  she  saw  the  gun  always  bumping 
at  his  hip,  she  shivered  as  though  cold.  Her  own 
senses  grew  sharpened;  her  fancies  raced  feverishly. 
From  every  boulder,  from  every  bend  in  the  trail, 
she  feared  to  see  the  sinister  face  of  Jim  Courtot. 


297 


CHAPTER  XXV 

IN  THE  OPEN 

came  that  night  a  crisis.  Half  expected 
J_  it  had  always  been,  and  yet  after  the  familiar 
fashion  of  supreme  moments  it  burst  upon  them  with 
the  suddenness  of  an  explosion.  Howard  and  Helen 
were  sitting  silent  upon  the  cabin  doorstep,  watch 
ing  the  first  stars.  In  Sanchia's  near-by  tent  a 
candle  was  burning;  they  could  now  and  then  see 
her  shadow  as  she  moved  restlessly  about.  Long- 
street  had  been  out  all  day,  prospecting. 

The  first  intimation  the  two  star-gazers  had  of 
any  eventful  happening  was  borne  to  them  by  Long- 
street's  voice,  calling  cheerily  out  of  the  darkness 
below  the  cliffs.  His  words  were  simply  "  Hello, 
everybody!"  but  the  whoop  from  afar  was  of  a 
joy  scarcely  less  than  delirious.  Sanchia  ran  out  of 
her  tent,  knocking  over  her  candle;  both  Helen  and 
Howard  sprang  up. 

"  He  has  found  it !  "  cried  Helen.  "  Look  at  that 
woman.  She  is  like  a  spider." 

Longstreet  came  on  down  the  trail  jauntily.  San 
chia,  first  to  reach  him,  passed  her  arm  through 
his  and  held  resolutely  to  his  side.  As  they  came 
close  and  into  the  lamp-light  from  the  cabin  door 
their  two  faces  hid  nothing  of  their  two  emotions. 
Longstreet's  was  one  of  whole-hearted  triumph; 
Sanchia's  of  shrewdness  and  determination. 

298 


In  the  Open 

"  Now/'  cried  Longstreet  ringingly,  "  who  says 
that  I  didn't  know  what  I  was  talking  about !  "  It 
was  a  challenge  of  the  victor,  not  a  mere  question. 

Before  any  other  reply  came  Sanchia's  answer. 

"  Dear  friend,"  she  told  him  hurriedly,  "  I  al 
ways  had  faith  in  you.  When  others  doubted  I  was 
sure.  And  now  I  rejoice  in  your  happiness  as — " 

"  Papa !  "  warned  Helen.  She  ran  forward  to 
him.  "  Remember  and  be  careful!  " 

Longstreet  went  into  the  cabin.  The  others  fol 
lowed  him.  Sanchia  did  not  release  his  arm,  though 
she  saw  and  understood  what  lay  in  Helen's  look 
and  Howard's.  The  main  issue  had  arrived  and 
Sanchia  meant  to  make  the  most  of  it. 

Longstreet  put  down  his  short-handled  pick. 
Howard  noted  the  act  and  observed,  though  the  im 
pression  at  the  time  was  relegated  to  the  outer 
fringes  of  his  concentrated  thought,  that  the  rough 
head  of  the  instrument  and  even  a  portion  of  the 
handle  looked  rusty.  Longstreet  removed  from  his 
shoulders  his  canvas  specimen-bag.  Plainly,  it  was 
heavy;  there  were  a  number  of  samples  in  it,  some 
as  small  as  robins'  eggs,  one  the  size  of  a  man's 
two  fists.  He  was  lifting  the  bag  to  dump  its  con 
tents  out  upon  the  table  when  suddenly  Howard 
pushed  by  Sanchia  and  snatched  the  thing  from 
Longstreet's  hands.  Longstreet  stared  at  him  in 
astonishment;  Sanchia  caught  at  his  coat. 

"  Just  a  minute,"  said  Howard  hastily. 

Even  Helen  wondered  as  he  turned  and  bolted 
out  through  the  door  and  sped  up  the  trail  toward 
the  spring.  Longstreet  looked  from  the  departing 
figure  to  his  daughter  and  then  to  Sanchia,  frankly 

299 


Desert  Valley 

bewildered.  Then  all  went  to  the  door.  In  a  mo 
ment,  Howard  returned,  the  bag  hanging  limp  over 
his  arm,  his  two  hands  filled  with  the  fragments  of 
rock  which  glistened  in  the  lamp-light. 

"  I  washed  them  off,"  he  said  lightly.  "  If  there 
really  is  gold  here  we  can  see  it  better  with  all  the 
loose  dirt  off,  can't  we?"  He  put  them  down  on 
the  table  and  stood  back,  watching  Sanchia  keenly. 

The  fine  restraint  which,  in  her  many  encounters 
with  the  unexpected,  Sanchia  had  been  trained  so 
long  and  so  well  to  maintain,  was  gone  now  in  a 
flash.  Her  eyes  shone;  a  rich  color  flooded  her 
face ;  she  could  not  stop  her  involuntary  action  until 
she  had  literally  thrown  herself  upon  the  bits  of 
quartz,  snatching  them  up.  For  they  were  streaked 
and  seamed  and  pitted  with  gold,  such  ore  as  she 
had  never  seen.  The  avarice  gleaming  in  her  eyes 
for  that  one  instant  during  which  she  was  thrown 
off  her  guard  was  akin  to  a  light  of  madness. 

But  she  had  herself  in  hand  immediately;  she  was 
as  one  who  had  slipped  slightly  upon  a  polished 
floor  but  had  caught  herself  gracefully  from  falling. 
She  thrust  the  rock  into  Longstreet's  hands;  she 
smiled  upon  him ;  she  made  use  of  her  old  familiar 
gesture  of  laying  her  hand  upon  his  arm,  as  she 
hardly  more  than  whispered: 

"  Dear  friend — and  wonderful  man — I  am  glad 
for  your  sake,  so  tremendously  glad.  For  now  you 
have  vindicated  yourself  before  the  world.  Now 
you  have  shown  them  all — •"  and  in  her  flashing 
glance  Sanchia  managed  to  include  both  Alan  and 
Helen  sweepingly  with  an  invisible  horde  whose  bit 
ter  tongues  had  been  as  so  many  dogs'  yelping  at 

300 


In  the  Open 

the  excellent  Longstreet's  heels — "  now  you  have 
shown  them  all  that  you  are  the  man  I  have  always 
contended  you  were.1'  She  crowded  her  smile 
fuller  of  what  she  sought  to  convey  than  even 
she  had  ever  risked  before  as  she  murmured  at  the 
end,  her  tones  dropping  away  like  dying  music: 
"  This  is  a  happy  hour  in  the  life  of  Sanchia 
Murray!" 

''There's  truth  there,  if  nowhere  else,"  cried 
Helen  pointedly.  "  Papa,  if  you  have  stumbled  on 
a  real  gold  mine  at  last,  aren't  you  wise  enough  this 
time  to  keep  still  about  it?" 

"  That  word  *  stumbled,'  my  dear,"  Longstreet 
told  her  with  great  dignity,  "  is  extremely  offensive 
to  me  at  a  moment  like  this.  It  is  a  word  which  you 
have  employed  in  this  same  connection  before  to 
day,  yet  it  is  one  to  which  I  have  always  objected. 
In  that  sure  progress  which  marks  the  path  a  scien 
tific  brain  has  followed,  there  are  no  chance  steps. 
Surely  my  own  daughter,  after  the  evidence  I  have 
already  given — " 

"  That  isn't  the  point,"  said  Helen  hurriedly. 
"  The  only  thing  that  counts  now  is  that  you  mustn't 
go  shouting  of  it  from  the  housetops." 

"Am  I  shouting,  my  dear?  Am  I  seeking  the 
housetops?"  His  dignity  swelled.  Also,  it  was 
clearly  read  in  his  unusually  mild  eyes  that  Helen, 
in  her  excitement  with  her  ill-chosen  words  had  hurt 
him.  Sanchia  Murray,  for  one,  who  was  older  and 
of  wider  worldly  experience  than  Longstreet's  other 
companions  of  the  moment,  and  who  surely  knew  as 
much  of  human  nature,  saw  something  else  in  his 
clouded  look.  It  was  an  incipient  but  fast-growing 

301 


Desert  Valley 

stubbornness.     Therefore  Sanchia  closed  her  lips 
and  watched  keenly  for  developments. 

'  There's  a  good  old  pops,"  Helen  cajoled.  She 
slipped  between  him  and  Sanchia,  sending  Howard 
a  meaning  look.  She  made  use  of  certain  of  the 
widow's  own  sort  of  weapon,  putting  her  two  round 
arms  about  her  father's  neck.  Before  he  quite 
understood  what  was  happening  to  him,  she  had 
managed  to  get  him  through  the  door  which  led  to 
her  room  at  the  rear,  and  to  close  the  door  after 
them  and  set  her  back  to  it.  Forthwith  her  cajolery 
was  done  with  and  taking  him  by  the  two  shoulders 
Helen  looked  severely  into  his  wondering  eyes. 

She  began  speaking  to  him  swiftly,  but  her  voice 
lowered.  She  had  marked  how  Sanchia  had  sought 
to  follow,  how  Howard  had  put  his  hand  on  her 
arm  and  Sanchia  had  shown  her  teeth.  The  woman 
was  in  fighting  mood,  and  Helen  from  the  beginning 
was  a  little  afraid  of  what  she  might  succeed  in 
doing. 

"  Papa,"  she  said.  "  Anyone  can  see  what  that 
woman  is  after.  She  robbed  you  once,  and  anyone 
can  see  that  too.  You  are  a  dear  old  innocent  thing 
and  she  is  artful  and  deceitful.  You  are  not  safe 
for  a  minute  in  her  hands;  you  must  stay  right  in 
here  until  Mr.  Howard  and  I  can  send  her  away." 

She  felt  Longstreet's  body  stiffen  under  her  hands. 

"  If  you  mean,  my  dear,  that  your  father  is  a 
mere  child;  that  he  cannot  be  trusted  to  know  what 
is  best;  that  you,  a  chit  of  a  youngster,  know  more 
of  human  nature  than  does  he,  a  man  of  years  and 
experience;  that — " 

"Oh,  dear!"  cried  Helen.     u  You  are  wonder- 


In  the  Open 

ful,  pops;  in  your  way.  You  are  the  best  papa  in 
the  world.  But,  after  all,  you  are  just  a  baby  in 
the  claws — or  hands  of  a  designing  creature  like 
that  hideous  Sanchia.  And—" 

"  And,  my  dear,"  maintained  Longstreet  belliger 
ently,  the  stubbornness  now  rampant  in  his  soul, 
"  you  are  mistaken,  that  is  all.  You  and  I  disagree 
upon  one  point;  you  condemn  Mrs.  Murray  out 
right,  because  of  certain  purely  circumstantial  evi 
dence  against  her.  That  is  the  way  of  hot-headed 
youth.  I,  being  mature,  even-minded  and  clear- 
eyed,  maintain  that  one  accused  must  be  given  every 
opportunity  to  prove  himself  innocent.  When  you 
say  that  Mrs.  Murray  is  untrustworthy — " 

"  I  could  pinch  you !  "  cried  Helen.  "  If  she  robs 
you  again  I — I — "  She  could  think  of  no  threat 
of  punishment  sufficient  unto  the  crime.  Suddenly 
she  pulled  the  door  open.  "  Come  in  here,"  she 
called  to  Alan.  And  as  he  obeyed,  leaving  the 
baffled  Sanchia  without,  Helen  said  swiftly:  "See 
if  you  can't  talk  reason  into  papa.  I'll  keep  her  out 
there."  And  she  in  turn  passed  out,  again  closing 
the  door. 

"  You  little  vixen !  "  Sanchia's  cheeks  were  red 
with  anger  as,  Helen's  maneuver  complete,  the  girl 
stood  regarding  her  with  defiant  eyes.  Sanchia's 
hands  clenched  and  the  resultant  impression  given 
forth  by  her  whole  demeanor  was  that  upon  occa 
sion  the  little  widow  might  be  swept  into  such  pas 
sionate  rage  that  she  was  prone  to  resort  to  primal, 
physical  violence.  Helen,  though  her  own  cheeks 
burned,  smiled  loftily  and  made  no  answer. 

From  beyond  the  closed  door  came  Alan's  eager 

303 


Desert  Valley 

voice.  Sanchia  bent  forward,  straining  her  ears  to 
hear;  Helen,  the  light  of  battle  flaring  steadily 
higher  in  her  eyes,  began  suddenly  to  sing,  the  same 
little  broken  snatches  of  song  which  not  so  long  ago 
had  irritated  her  impatient  lover  and  which  now  con 
fused  the  words  spoken  beyond  the  door  and  which 
made  Sanchia  furious. 

"  Stand  aside,"  commanded  Sanchia.  "  I  am 
going  in." 

Helen  stood  firm.  Then  she  saw  that  Sanchia 
meant  what  she  said.  And,  on  the  table  near  the 
discarded  pick,  she  saw  Longstreet's  big  revolver. 
She  made  a  quick  step  forward,  snatched  it  up  in 
both  hands  and  pointed  it  directly  at  Sanchia's  heav 
ing  breast.  Now  the  color  went  out  of  Helen's 
face  and  it  grew  very  white  while  her  eyes  darkened. 

"If  you  move  a  step  toward  that  door,"  she 
threatened,  "  I  am  going  to  shoot!  " 

Sanchia  sneered.  Then  she  paused.  And  finally 
she  laughed  contemptuously. 

"  You  little  fool,"  she  whispered  back,  cautious 
that  no  syllable  might  enter  the  adjoining  room.  "  I 
don't  need  to  go  rushing  in  there,  after  all.  And 
you  know  it.  That  stuff,"  and  she  glanced  briefly  at 
the  rock  on  the  table,  "  got  into  my  blood  for  a 
second.  I'll  take  my  time  now;  and  I'll  get  what 
I  want." 

As  they  stood  in  silence,  Helen  making  no  an 
swer,  they  heard  what  the  men  were  saying. 

" — just  this  if  nothing  more,"  came  the  end  of 
Howard's  entreaty.  "  Don't  tell  Sanchia." 

Promptly  came  the  angry  answer: 

"  Mind  your  own  business,  young  man !     And, 

304 


In  the  Open 

until  you  are  asked  for  advice,  hold  your  tongue !  " 
At  the  end  of  the  command  the  door  snapped  open 
and  Longstreet  popped  into  the  room. 

Sanchia,  her  cool  poise  regained,  made  no  step 
toward  him  but  contented  herself  by  a  slow,  com 
prehensive  and  sympathetic  smile.  Howard  came 
quickly  to  Helen,  stooped  to  her  and  whispered: 

"  I  can't  do  a  thing  with  him.  But  come  outside 
with  me  a  second;  I  think  I  know  what  to  do.*' 

She  flung  down  the  heavy  gun  and  went  with  him. 
Ten  paces  from  the  cabin  they  stopped  together. 

"  Did  you  glimpse  the  specimens  before  I  ran  out 
to  the  spring  with  them?"  he  asked  sharply. 

She  shook  her  head,  her  eyes  round. 

"  Do  you  have  any  idea,"  he  hurried  on,  u  just 
where  your  father  has  been  prospecting  lately?  " 

"  Yes,  I  went  with  him  for  a  walk  two  or  three 
times  during  the  last  week.  He — " 

But  he  interrupted. 

"  Has  he  shown  any  interest  in  a  flat-topped  hill 
about  three  miles  back?  Where  there  is  a  lot  of 
red  dirt?  They  call  it  Red  Dirt  Hill?  " 

"  Yes !  "    Her  tone  quickened.    "  That  is  why—" 

They  had  no  time  for  complete  sentences. 

"  I  saw  the  red  dirt  on  his  pick  first;  then  on  the 
rock.  That  is  why  I  washed  it  off  hoping  that  she 
had  not  seen.  It's  more  than  a  fair  gamble,  Helen, 
that  your  father's  claim  is  on  Red  Hill." 

Her  hand  was  on  his  arm  now;  she  did  not  know, 
but  through  all  other  considerations  to  him  this  fact 
thrilled  pleasurably.  He  put  his  own  hand  over  hers. 

"If  Sanchia  saw,  too?" 

"  I  don't  think  that  she  did.    Nor  am  I  half  sure 

305 


Desert  Valley 

that  it  would  mean  anything  to  her.  I  know  every 
foot  of  these  hills;  she  doesn't. — We'll  go  in  now 
and  see  what  we  can  do.  If  your  father  does  give 
it  away — well,  then  we'll  play  our  hunch  and  try 
to  beat  her  to  it." 

But  though  they  had  been  out  so  brief  a  time, 
already  Sanchia  met  them  at  the  door.  Her  eyes 
were  on  fire;  her  slight  body  seemed  to  dilate  with 
a  joy  swelling  in  her  heart;  she  looked  the  embodi 
ment  of  all  that  was  triumphant.  Behind  her,  rub 
bing  his  two  hands  together,  and  looking  like  a 
wilful  and  victorious  child,  was  Longstreet.  Sanchia 
ran  by  them.  In  her  hands,  tight-clutched,  was  the 
finest  specimen. 

"  You  haven't  told  her,  papa !  Oh,  you  haven't 
told  her!" 

"And  what  if  I  have?"  he  snapped.  "  Am  1 
not  a  man  grown  that  I  am  not  to — " 

Again  no  time  for  more  than  a  broken  sentence. 

"  Will  you  tell  us?  "  demanded  Howard. 

u  In  due  time,"  came  the  cool  rejoinder.  "  When 
I  am  ready.  I  should  have  told  you  tonight,  had 
you  trusted  to  me.  Now  I  shall  not  tell  you  a  word 
about  it  until  tomorrow." 

They  knew  that  Sanchia  was  going  for  her  horse. 
Here  was  no  time  for  one  to  allow  his  way  to  be 
cluttered  up  with  trifles.  Howard  turned  and  ran 
to  his  own  horse.  They  lost  sight  of  him  in  the 
dark;  they  heard  pounding  hoofs  as  he  raced  after 
Sanchia  and  by  her;  they  heard  her  scream  out 
angrily  at  him  as  she  was  the  first  to  grasp  his  pur 
pose.  And  presently  at  the  cabin  door  was  Howard 
again,  calling  to  Helen.  She  ran  out.  He  was 

306 


In  the  Open 

mounted  and  led  two  horses,  her  own  and  Sanchia's 
white  mare. 

"  Hurry !  "  he  called.  "  We'll  play  my  hunch  and 
beat  her  to  it  yet." 

Helen  understood  and  scrambled  wildly  into  her 
own  saddle.  She  heard  Sanchia  calling;  she  could 
even  hear  the  woman  running  back  toward  them. 
Then  her  horse  jumped  under  her,  she  clutched  at 
the  horn  of  her  saddle  to  save  herself  from  falling, 
and  she  and  Howard  were  racing  up  trail,  Sanchia's 
mare  led  after  them,  Sanchia's  voice  screaming  be 
hind  them. 

They  skirted  the  base  of  the  cliffs  for  half  a  mile. 
Then  Howard  turned  Sanchia's  horse  loose,  driving 
the  animal  down  into  a  dark  ravine  where  there 
would  be  no  finding  it  in  the  nighttime. 

"  It's  only  a  chance,1'  he  said,  "  but  then  that's 
better  than  just  sitting  and  sucking  our  thumbs. — 
We  take  the  up-trail  here." 

They  came  out  upon  the  tablelands  above  Bear 
Valley.  There  was  better  light  here;  the  trail  was 
less  narrow  and  steep;  they  could  look  down  and 
see  the  light  in  the  cabin. 

Later  they  were  to  know  just  what  had  been 
Sanchia  Murray's  quick  reply  to  their  move.  And 
then  they  were  to  know,  too,  where  Jim  Courtot's 
hang-out  had  been  during  these  last  weeks  in  which 
he  had  seemed  to  vanish.  Sanchia,  with  a  golden 
labor  before  her,  had  promptly  turned  to  her  "  right 
hand."  On  foot,  since  there  was  no  other  way,  and 
running  until  she  was  breathless  and  spent,  she 
hurried  across  the  narrow  valley,  climbed  the  low 

307 


Desert  Valley 

hills  at  its  eastern  edge,  and  plunged  down  into  the 
ravine  which  was  the  head  of  Dry  Gulch.  Up  the 
further  side  she  clambered,  again  running,  panting 
and  sobbing  with  the  exertion  she  put  upon  herself, 
until  she  came  to  another  broken  cliff-ridge.  There 
she  had  stood  calling.  And,  from  a  hidden  hole  in 
the  rocks,  giving  entrance  to  a  cave,  like  a  wolf 
from  its  lair,  there  had  come  at  her  calling  Jim 
Courtot. 


308 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

WHEN  DAY  DAWNED 

UPON  the  flat  top  of  Red  Dirt  Hill,  Howard 
and  Helen  drove  their  stakes.  Thereafter  they 
made  a  little  fire  in  the  shelter  of  a  tumble  of 
boulders  and  camped  throughout  the  night  under  the 
blazing  desert  stars.  Were  they  right?  Were  they 
wrong?  They  did  not  know.  In  the  darkness  they 
could  make  out  little  of  the  face  of  the  earth  about 
them.  Alan  thought  himself  certain  of  one  thing; 
that  only  near  here  could  it  be  likely  that  Longstreet 
should  have  broken  off  fragments  of  stone  with  so 
plain  a  marking  of  red  dirt  on  them.  Helen  merely 
knew  that  her  father  had  more  than  once  climbed 
up  here,  though  she  had  laughed  at  him  for  seeking 
gold  upon  the  exalted  heights.  To  know  anything 
beyond  this  meager  and  unsatisfying  data,  they  must 
await  the  dawn. 

The  hours  passed  and  Sanchia  Murray  did  not 
come.  Before  now,  they  estimated,  she  could  have 
hurried  here  even  though  she  came  on  foot;  before 
now,  had  she  thought  of  it  and  had  the  patience,  she 
might  have  found  Longstreet's  horse.  Yet  she  did 
not  come.  The  fact  made  their  uncertainty  the 
greater.  They  had  ample  opportunity  to  ask  them 
selves  a  hundred  times  if  they  had  done  the  foolish 
thing  in  racing  off  here.  Should  they  have  held  by 
Sanchia  ? 

309 


Desert  Valley 

Toward  morning  it  grew  chill  and  they  came 
closer  together  over  their  little  brush  fire.  They 
spoke  in  lowered  voices,  and  not  always  of  Helen's 
father  and  of  his  gold.  At  times  they  spoke  of 
themselves.  Tomorrow  Helen  might  be  mistress  of 
a  bonanza;  tomorrow  she  might  be,  as  she  was 
tonight,  a  girl  but  briefly  removed  from  penniless- 
ness.  As  the  stars  waxed  and  began  at  last  to  wane 
and  the  sky  brightened,  as  the  still  thin  air  grew 
colder  at  the  first  promises  of  another  day,  they  dis 
cussed  the  matter  quietly.  And  it  seemed  that  this 
was  not  the  only  consideration  in  the  world,  nor 
yet  even  the  chiefest.  But — 

"  I  can't  come  to  you  like  a  beggar-girl,"  she 
whispered. 

"  If  I  lost  everything  I  had — and  I  could  not  lose 
everything  since  I  would  go  on  loving  you — would 
that  make  any  difference,  Helen?" 

She  hesitated.  "  You  know,"  she  said  quietly  at 
last. 

So,  when  the  pallid  sky  gave  way  to  the  rosy  tints 
of  the  new  day,  they  knew  everything,  being  richly 
wise  in  the  wisdom  of  youth.  Even  it  was  granted 
them  to  see  the  red  earth  about  them  and  to  know 
that  Alan's  surmise  had  led  them  aright.  Just 
yonder  in  a  little  hollow  to  which  the  shadows  clung 
longest,  were  the  marks  left  by  Longstreet's  pick; 
there  was  a  tiny  pit  in  which  he  had  toiled  exposing 
a  vein  of  rock  from  which  he  had  chipped  his  sam 
ples;  near  the  spot  his  location  stake  and  notice. 
Promptly  they  removed  their  own  stakes,  taking 
claims  on  both  sides  of  his. 

"  We  were  right !  "  called  Alan  triumphantly. 
310 


When  Day  Dawned 

"But  how  about  Sanchia?     He  told  her  and — " 

"  Look !  "    Helen  caught  his  arm  and  pointed. 

Upon  a  neighboring  hill,  by  air  line  not  over  half 
a  mile  from  their  own,  but  almost  twice  that  dis 
tance  by  the  trail  one  must  follow  down  and  up  the 
rugged  slopes,  were  two  figures.  Clearly  limned 
against  the  sky,  they  were  like  black  outlines  against 
a  pink  curtain. 

"  That  is  Sanchia !  "  Helen  was  positive.  "  There 
is  a  man  with  her.  It —  Do  you  think — " 

He  did  not  know  why  she  should  think  what  he 
knew  she  did  think;  what  he  himself  was  thinking. 
It  was  altogether  too  far  to  distinguish  one  man  from 
another.  It  might  even  be  Longstreet  himself.  But 
he  knew  that  she  feared  it  was  Jim  Courtot,  to  whom 
naturally  Sanchia  would  turn  at  a  moment  like  this; 
and  never  from  the  first  did  he  doubt  that  it  was 
Courtot. 

c<  It's  someone  of  Sanchia's  crowd,"  he  said  with 
high  assumption  of  carelessness.  "  But  here  is  what 
I  can't  understand:  Your  father  told  Sanchia;  she 
has  raced  off  and  staked;  and  as  sure  as  fate,  they 
are  on  the  wrong  hill!  Sanchia  wouldn't  make  a 
blunder  like  that!" 

Helen  was  frowning  meditatively.  She  under 
stood  what  Howard  had  in  mind  and  she,  too,  was 
perplexed. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  cried  suddenly,  "  I  think 
we  have  failed  to  do  papa  justice !  " 

;<  What  do  you  mean?" 

"  He  never  said  outright  that  he  had  told  her;  he 
merely  let  us  think  that  he  had!  He  never  once 


Desert  Valley 

said  positively  that  he  had  faith  in  Sanchia;  he  just 
said,  over  and  over,  that  one  accused  should  be 
given  a  chance  to  prove  his  innocence !  Now,  sup 
posing  that  he  had  led  Sanchia  to  think  that  his  mine 
was  over  yonder  on  that  other  hill?  He  would  be 
risking  nothing;  and  at  the  same  time  he  would  be 
giving  her  that  chance. — No,"  and  it  was  a  very 
thoughtful  Helen  who  spoke,  u  I  don't  know  that 
we  have  ever  done  dear  old  pops  justice." 

They  stood,  silent,  watching  the  growing  day  and 
the  two  motionless  figures  upon  the  other  hill. 
Those  figures,  as  the  day  brightened,  began  to  move 
about;  plainly  they  were  searching  quite  as  Alan  and 
Helen  had  searched  just  now.  They  were  making 
assurance  doubly  sure,  or  seeking  to  do  so.  They 
disappeared  briefly.  Again  they  stood,  side  by  side, 
in  relief  against  the  sky. 

"  That  is  Jim  Courtot,  I  know  it."  Helen's  hands 
were  tight-pressed  against  her  breast  in  which  a  sud 
den  tumult  was  stirring.  All  of  yesterday's  premoni 
tion  swept  back  over  her.  "  You  two  will  meet  this 
time.  And  then — " 

"  Listen,  Helen.  I  no  longer  want  to  meet  Jim 
Courtot.  I  would  be  content  to  let  him  pass  by  me 
and  go  on  his  own  way  now.  But  if  he  does  cotne 
this  way,  if  at  last  we  must  meet —  Well,  my 
dear,"  he  sought  to  make  his  smile  utterly  reassur 
ing,  "  I  have  met  Jim  Courtot  before." 

But  her  sudden  fear,  after  the  way  of  fear  when 
there  is  an  unfounded  dread  at  the  bottom  of  it, 
gripped  her  as  it  had  never  done  before;  she  felt 
a  terrified  certainty  that  if  the  two  men  met  it  would 
be  Alan  who  died.  She  began  to  tremble. 

312 


When  Day  Dawned 

Far  down  in  the  hollow  lying  between  Red  Dirt 
Hill  and  the  eminence  whereon  stood  Sanchia  and 
Courtot,  they  saw  a  man  riding.  He  came  into  a 
clearing;  had  they  not  from  the  beginning  suspected 
who  it  must  be  they  would  have  known  Longstreet 
from  that  distance,  from  his  characteristic  carriage 
in  the  saddle.  No  man  ever  rode  like  James  Ed 
ward  Longstreet.  And  Courtot  and  Sanchia  had 
seen  him. 

He  jogged  along  placidly.  They  could  fancy  him 
smiling  contentedly.  Helen  and  Howard  watched 
him;  he  was  coming  toward  them.  They  glanced 
swiftly  across  the  ravine ;  there  the  two  figures  stood 
close  together,  evidently  conversing  earnestly.  The 
sun  was  not  yet  up.  Longstreet  rode  into  a  thick 
ness  of  shadow  and  disappeared.  In  five  minutes 
he  came  into  sight  again.  Courtot  and  Sanchia  had 
not  stirred.  But  now,  as  though  galvanized,  they 
moved.  Courtot  leaped  from  his  boulder  and  began 
hurrying  down  into  the  canon,  seeking  to  come  up 
with  the  man  on  the  horse.  Sanchia  followed.  Even 
at  the  distance,  however,  she  seemed  slack-footed, 
like  one  who,  having  played  out  the  game,  knows 
that  it  is  defeat. 

"  Papa  is  coming  this  way  I — Jim  Courtot  is  fol 
lowing  him — in  ten  minutes  more — " 

She  did  not  finish.  Howard  put  his  arms  about 
her  and  felt  her  body  shaking. 

"  You  do  love  me?  "  he  whispered. 

She  jerked  away  from  him.  A  new  look  was  in 
her  eyes. 

"  Alan  Howard,"  she  said  steadily,  "  I  love  you. 
With  my  whole  heart  and  soul!  But  our  love  can 

313 


Desert  Valley 

never  come  to  anything  unless  you  love  me  just 
exactly  as  I  love  you!  " 

"  Don't  you  know— " 

"  You  do  not  know  what  it  has  meant  to  me, 
your  shooting  those  two  men  in  papa's  quarrel.  But 
they  lived  and  I  have  tried  to  forget  it  all.  If  they 
had  died,  then  what?"  Her  eyes  widened.  "  If 
you  and  Courtot  meet,  what  will  happen?  If  he 
kills  you,  there  is  an  end.  If — if  you  kill  him,  there 
is  an  end !  Call  it  what  you  please,  if  it  is  not  mur 
der,  it  is  a  man  killing  a  man.  And  it  is  horrible !  " 

Mystified,  he  stared  at  her. 

"What  can  I  do?"  he  muttered.  "You  would 
not  have  me  run  from  him,  Helen?  You  do  not 
want  me  to  turn  coward  like  that?  " 

"  If  you  kill  him,"  she  told  him,  her  face  dead- 
white,  "  I  will  never  marry  you.  I  will  go  away 
tomorrow.  If  you  would  promise  me  not  to  shoot 
him,  I  would  marry  you  this  minute." 

He  looked  down  into  the  ravine  trail.  Longstreet 
was  appreciably  nearer.  So  was  Courtot.  Behind, 
Sanchia  lagged  spiritlessly,  seeming  of  a  mind  to 
stop  and  turn  back.  He  looked  at  Helen;  she  had 
had  no  sleep,  she  was  unstrung,  nervous,  distraught. 
He  gnawed  at  his  lip  and  looked  again  toward 
Courtot. 

44  If  you  love  me !  "  pleaded  Helen  wildly. 

"  I  love  you,"  he  said  grimly.  "  That  is  all  that 
counts." 

He  waited  until  she  looked  away  from  him.  Then 
silently  he  drew  his  gun  from  its  holster;  the  thing 
was  madness,  but  just  now  there  was  no  sanity  in 
the  universe.  He  could  not  run;  he  must  not  kill 

3H 


When  Day  Dawned 

Courtot.  He  dropped  the  gun  behind  'him  and 
with  the  heel  of  his  boot  thrust  it  away  from  him 
so  that  it  fell  into  a  fissure  in  the  rock.  He  turned 
again  to  watch  Courtot  coming  on. 

The  eerie  light  of  uncertainty  which  is  neither  day 
nor  night  lay  across  the  hills.  It  was  utterly  silent. 
Then,  the  rattle  of  stones  below;  horse  and  rider 
were  so  close  that  they  could  see  Longstreet's  up 
turned  face.  Courtot  was  close  behind  him;  Courtot 
looked  up  and  they  could  see  his  face. 

"  You  must  go,  now,"  whispered  Helen.  "  You 
have  promised  me." 

"  I  am  keeping  my  promise,"  he  said  sternly. 
"  But  I  am  not  going  to  run  from  him.  You  would 
hate  me  for  being  a  coward,  Helen." 

She  looked  at  him,  puzzled.  Then  she  saw  that 
the  holster  at  his  hip  was  empty. 

"  Oh,"  cried  Helen  wildly,  "  not  that!  You  must 
kill  him,  Alan.  I  was  mad  with  fear.  I — " 

Stopping  the  flow  of  her  words  there  swept  over 
her  the  paralyzing  certainty  that  it  was  useless  to 
batter  against  fate;  that  a  man's  destiny  was  not  to 
be  thrust  aside  by  a  woman's  love.  For  out  of  the 
silence  there  burst  a  sound  which  to  her  quivering 
nerves  was  fraught  with  word  of  death;  that  sound 
which  in  countless  human  hearts  presages  a  death 
before  the  dawn — the  long,  lugubrious  howling  of  a 
dog.  It  seemed  to  her  to  burst  out  of  the  nothing 
ness  of  the  sky,  to  arise  in  the  void  of  an  unseen 
ghostly  world  where  spirit  voices  foretold  the  onrush 
of  destruction. 

Jim  Courtot  was  hurrying  up  the  slope.  They 
saw  him  stop  dead  in  his  tracks.  He,  too,  seemed 

3'S 


Desert  Valley 

turned  to  stone  by  the  sound.  It  came  again,  the 
terrible  howling  of  a  dog,  nearer  as  though  the  crea 
ture  sped  across  the  hills  on  the  wings  of  the  quick 
ening  morning  wind.  Sanchia  stopped  and  began  to 
draw  back.  Longstreet  came  on  unconcernedly. 

A  third  time,  and  again  nearer,  came  the  strange 
baying.  Courtot  held  where  he  was,  balancing 
briefly.  Then  they  heard  him  cry  out,  his  voice 
strange  and  hoarse;  he  whirled  about  and  began  to 
run.  He  was  going  down  the  trail  now,  running  as 
a  man  runs  only  from  his  death,  stumbling,  cursing, 
rising  and  plunging  on. 

"Look!"  Howard's  fingers  had  locked  upon 
Helen's  arm.  "  It  is  Kish  Taka !" 

She  looked.  Behind  them,  outlined  against  the 
sky,  was  a  strange  pair.  A  great  beast,  head  down, 
howling  as  it  ran,  that  was  bigger  than  a  desert 
wolf,  and  close  behind  it,  gaunt  body  doubled,  speed 
ing  like  an  arrow,  a  naked  man.  They  flashed  across 
the  open  space  and  sped  down  the  steep  slope  of 
the  ravine  where,  in  the  shadows,  they  became  mere 
ghost  figures. 

"  It  is  Kish  Taka !  "  said  Howard  a  second  time. 
"  And  again  Kish  Taka  has  saved  my  life." 

Dazed,  the  girl  did  not  yet  understand.  She  shiv 
ered  and  drew  close  to  her  lover,  stepping  into  his 
arms.  He  held  her  tight,  and  they  turned  their 
fascinated  eyes  below.  The  speed  of  Jim  Courtot 
in  the  grip  of  his  terror  was  great;  but  it  looked 
like  lingering  leisure  compared  to  the  speed  of  Kish 
Taka  and  his  great  hungering  dog.  And,  now,  be 
hind  Kish  Taka  came  a  second  dog,  like  the  first; 
and  behind  it  a  second  man,  like  Kish  Taka. 

316 


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